


The Last Emperor

by Jameson9101322



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Discworld - Freeform, Emperor Twoflower, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Sickfic, also featuring the Unseen Faculty in small amounts, and some ocs - Freeform, or at least post canon for twoflower, rincewind still has things to do in his timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-10-11 14:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20547836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameson9101322/pseuds/Jameson9101322
Summary: After Emperor Genghis Cohen's abdication of the throne, the Agatean Empire fell into the hands of his plucky Grand Vizier. Twoflower never imagined he'd be running an empire when he was in his insurance office back in Bes Pelargic, nor does he really intend to now. With the help of his two daughters, Butterfly and Lotus, Twoflower decides to remake the empire in a more beneficial way but in a place like Agatea change does not come without risk. When the new emperor becomes suddenly ill, it's up to his old friend Rincewind (manipulated by fate, luck, karma, and the rest) to figure out what's happened before it's too late.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First Discworld fic, forgive this American fan as she tries her best to jump trope-deep into this new and engaging universe.

When Twoflower left his insurance business to take an extended vacation, he had no idea the decision would lead to the throne. It was nonsensical, and yet there he was. The eve of his coronation. The last day as a mere citizen.

“Father?” 

His older daughter, Pretty Butterfly, appeared at the door of his study. Her voice was serious, but still musical. Like a flute is to a harp. It reminded him of her mother. Twoflower turned in his chair. “Yes?”

“Are you ready?”

He pouted and turned back to his desk. The surface was covered in scrolls and parchments – all the wisdom of emperors from generations before. Most of them were terrible people, and a lot of them talked about conquest and power for power’s sake. In the middle, bound in paper, his own book sat open, one of the few copies of “What I did on my Holidays” to survive its initial print run. Twoflower folded it closed and paused to pat his name on the cover. “The world is pretty amazing, isn’t it?” 

Butterfly’s voice steeled more. “It can be.”

“It is,” he said, this time as fact. “I’ve seen it. I can state it as point of experience.”

“Yes, but forgive me for saying, but your filter on the world has a certain rosiness.”

“You say that as if it were bad.” 

“I meant it to sound gentle.”

Twoflower tapped his thumb against the binding. The clock on the table ticked. “Then I’ll turn the question. You ask me if I’m ready. Do you think I’m ready?”

“We have been essentially running this empire for a while already. A changing of title shouldn’t matter.”

“Hmm.” Twoflower stilled his hand. “I think it can if I want it to.”

Butterfly paused. He felt her candor shift. “Explain.”

“As vizier my job was to enforce the will of the reigning emperor.” Twoflower rose, his ceremonial robe falling in blocked folds around his feet. “Now I am the emperor. I get to enforce my will. I get to live where I want to live.”

Butterfly bit her lip. Her hardened tone hid worry her eyes could not. “You’re going away?”

He softened. “No. I’m making my first decision. This empire was the same for ages and ages before Cohen. And Cohen came in by rite of conquest, which is not me by a long shot. I’m going to be an emperor like our people have never seen before. Not ever. And I’m going to be the last one.”

She tensed. “The last?”

“I’m dismantling it,” he grinned. “Rebuild it from the ground up. I’ll do all this robe and ceremony for the peoples’ sake but they’re going to find out pretty fast that that kind of thing is going to end. I’m going to be the kind of emperor I want to be, and I’m going to make our country the kind of place I want to live in.”

“People aren’t going to like that,” Butterfly said. 

“Some won’t, but a lot will!” Twoflower insisted. “There’s so much in this world we could benefit from. New viewpoints, new ideas, economy, fraternity, magic, technology, everything! It won’t all fit in our imperial mold, but it’s all worth looking at and I’m excited about it! It’s going to be amazing.” 

He reached for her and she closed the distance between them. He let his hands rest on her bare shoulders. 

“You are a bold leader, my dear,” Twoflower cooed at her. “But you’re a woman as well. The way the empire stands you’e not considered an heir unless you marry and we cannot have that. Let’s make a world you can be proud of. I’d like you to help.”

She blushed. “Really?”

“Like you said, we’ve been running this country together already.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “What do you say?”

She smiled, looking even more like her mother than before. “I say we should get you to your coronation, or else it doesn’t count.”

“We’ll do it then.” He tucked the copy of “What I did” in the folds of his robes so that it pressed against his heart. “Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emperor Twoflower engages an Emissary from Klatch about the culture and government of his country. Meanwhile in Unseen University, Rincewind is a problem everyone feels like they have to deal with.... of course his problem is mostly them.

It did not take long for Emperor Twoflower to keep his word. The open policies under Cohen were reinforced tenfold, with more embassies popping up within the great wall. The emperor’s office sent albatrosses to all wedges of the disc, inviting leaders and dignitaries to the Forbidden City for broadly targeted cultural exchange, emphasizing literary works, ethnic foods, art, history, and forms of government. Especially forms of government. There were a lot of options to weigh.

“The Klatchian emissary is arriving presently.” Twoflower’s personal assistant, Fiveorchids rolled out a narrow scroll. “Twelve ships full of “culture” according to the dock master.”

The emperor sat forward on his throne. “Did they bring curry?”

“A whole ship of it, sir.”

“Fantastic.” Twoflower wrung his hands expectantly. “Clear tonight’s menu. I mean, we want Seriphate to feel comfortable.”

Fiveorchids made a note on the paper. “If you say so, sir.”

If there was one thing that Emperor Cohen impressed upon Twoflower early on, it was that grand viziers were universally trouble (“present company excluded”) and never to trust a man in a hat with a plume. Fiveorchids did not have a hat at all, nor did he have any space in the line of succession, because there was no succession. This disappointed all five of the noble families who were poised for a power-grab even before Cohen left. That’s why Fiveorchids wasn’t a noble, either. He made a nice salary, though. The imperial treasurer teased that Twoflower intended to bankrupt the empire while he dissolved it. That was ridiculous, if there was one thing he retained from his trip abroad it was that what he thought of as a small amount of money, other countries saw as mountains of ballooning wealth. And even if a dozen rhinu remained at the end of his reign it would be enough to trade comfortably with Ankh-Morpork for probably centuries.

The throne room doors opened and closed, permitting the light chatter of Lotus Blossom. Twoflower’s younger daughter practically danced into the throne room, followed by Butterfly with a young man on her arm.

Fiveorchids tucked his pencil behind his ear. “Back again, are you?”

“I talked the captain into reassigning me,” the young man said. He squeezed Butterfly’s hand on his arm. “Got to keep the palace safe from all these foreigners.”

“Then perhaps be respectful.” Fiveorchids turned eyes to the emperor.

The soldier followed his gaze and took a broad step to the side. “A thousand pardons!” He bent at the waist – something Cohen substituted for kowtowing, its hard to break a habit cold-turkey – and rose with a hand over his heart. “Sixwings reporting for duty, Your Honor.” 

“Welcome back, Sixwings.” Twoflower quirked an eyebrow at Butterfly. She rolled her eyes, put out but blushing nonetheless. The emperor snickered. “I’m sure we’re all glad to have you back, but maybe adjust your expectation of the Klatchians. They are guests after all.”

“Yes, but they’re not friends,” Butterfly interjected. “You’re far to trusting, Father.”

He feigned hurt. “I invited them here for a nice time, that’s all I’m expecting. I’d hope if they were making war they’d at least send a memo first.”

Butterfly passed him a knowing look, but held her tongue. Lotus Blossom grinned at them both and climbed lightly up the elevated platform to kiss her father on the cheek. “Are you excited?”

“I’m always excited,” he said. “This outreach campaign is like having tourism come to you… ” A faraway look glinted in his eye. “Boy I’d love to go adventuring again. Can’t carry the same kind of experience abroad in a boat, that’s for sure. You have to live it.”

Lotus sat beside him on the dais. “I wish I could have gone with you.”

“You never know, you may some day,” Twoflower said. “All it takes is the courage to try.”

“Or the naivete not to be scared,” Fiveorchids said under his breath. 

Butterfly narrowed her eyes on him. “I think a trip to the edge would be nice at some point. I’d like to see a rimbow.”

“It was gorgeous, I’m pretty sure I cried a little.” Twoflower leveled a finger at Sixwings. “See? This is why outreach makes the empire stronger. You can’t experience anything fully by reading just about it, you have to live it. Travel is enlightening. If you’re afraid to face the world, you’re stuck forever where you are.”

The soldier cocked half a smile and inched back to Butterfly’s side. “Sorry, your honor. I guess I just… like where I am.”

The emperor grinned. “Take her to see a rimbow, then we’ll see how you feel.”

Fiveorchids cleared his throat. “The contents of the ships will be arriving in four hours, but the Emissary and his entourage are coming forward by carpet. They will be here within the hour.”

“A flying carpet! I’ve always wanted to ride one of them!” Twoflower stood. “Do you think they’ll let me if I call it a guided tour?”

Butterfly bit her lip. “I really don’t like the idea of you falling from a carpet.”

“Nonsense, they’re perfectly safe. The Klatchians have been using them for centuries.” He unfastened the ceremonial cording around his neck. “If they show up without me tell them to wait. This kind of opportunity needs travel clothes.”

“Please don’t put on that flowered shirt,” groaned Butterfly.

Twoflower replied with a wink and swept out of the room.

***

Unseen University was whimsical to say the least. People thought they knew what went on in there, but they’d never guess the truth. The most powerful magic in the disc was in there, and the most powerful men next to the gods. They could manipulate nature and space in ways the average Morporkian couldn’t imagine and the average troll or dwarf mostly ignored. Students lined up to make it into UU and learn the secrets it contained. 

Rincewind knew the secrets. That was about all he learned, that and the karmic unfairness of the universe. He long ago suspected that any kudos he earned were mistakenly exchanged for misfortunes whatever great divine banking system managed such things. As a result he was failing straight upward through the ranks, despite every attempt he made to refuse, resist, or riot. 

The wayward wizard stumbled about the grounds of Unseen University, worn down by fate, karma, luck, divinity, adventure, and most recently… chores. He dropped to his knees and then his face, deeply breathing the dirt and grass clippings. Modo the dwarf gardener poked him with a rake. Rincewind was supposed to be turning compost, but the scent wafting off the biological waste of Unseen University (not to mention the clouds of methane) would have taken an elephant down. He ignored the persistent nudge. If he didn’t move, perhaps Modo would think he was dead and start heaping dirt atop him.

“Eh?” Modo grunted.

“Mm?” Rincewind replied.

“Rincewind!” said someone who was definitely not Modo.

Rincewind craned his neck and looked up into the bearded face of Archchancellor Ridcully. The head wizard leaned forward over his protruding gut, his various leather belts, pockets, jerkins and whatever creaking with the effort. Rincewind knew luck, fate, karma, divinty, adventure, or doom had caught him slacking. “Yes?”

“How is Assistant Gardening coming along?”

Rincewind’s head bobbed as he gulped. “How does it look?”

“Assuming you were told to mow the lawn with your teeth it seems to be coming along well.”

Rincewind returned his forehead to the ground with a zombie-like groan.

Ridcully bent his lean toward Modo. “You done with him?”

“Hmph.”

“Alright then.” Ridcully clapped his massive hands together. “Alright, Rincewind! Congratulations!”

“For what?”

“You’ve been promoted!”

“Again?”

Ridcully grabbed a handful of Rincewind’s robe and hoisted him by the back as if he had a handle. This brought him near enough to the Archchancellor’s face for his senses to respond. “Gracious! You smell like a public privy.”

Rincewind examined the statement for insult but found it entirely factual.

“Get yourself cleaned up and report back to the main hall. I’ve got a new job for you.”

“Oh goodie.”

Rincewind sulked off to the tower where his bedroom waited. He would have welcomed it with open arms if not for his filthiness. In the years he spent ping-ponging across time and space, his standards of comfort had dropped a great deal, but they still hovered above “make your bed smell like poo.” He resented it though. 

The Luggage slept soundly at the foot of the bed, it’s hundreds of legs twitching in contented trunk-shaped dreams. Rincewind wondered what would happen if he just let the trunk eat him. It was probably the one place in the university Ridcully wouldn’t find him, but then there were so many bodies in the Luggage already he didn’t want to make a crowd.

“You’re lucky, you know,” he said. “You were made for one job and that’s all you have to do. When that job’s not necessary, you can lay around and do nothing but me. I had to be a wizard. I had to have _potential_.”

He pouted and pulled a wadded robe out of his laundry.

“Not that it would matter I suppose. If I weren’t a wizard I’d still be yanked around by other people.” He dumped a full pitcher of water over his own head. “And how many of the things I’ve been expected to do were in the wizard job description I ask you? That’s right very few.”

He tugged the fresh robe on over his damp undershirt and dropped the identical soiled garment in the hamper. At least he didn’t have to scrub his own dress, that was one thing about being hom.

Rincewind paused like a gear grinding it’s teeth off. What was home anymore? After everywhere he’d been and all the things that he’d done or been victim of this old building full of history and staircases was as subtly foreign as the rest of the disc and seemed to want him nearby just as much. He was far from being an idiot, Ridcully wasn’t promoting him to new and exciting apprenticeships out of the warmth of his heart. They didn’t know what to do with him and blundered forward in blind hope if he was busy they wouldn’t notice.

Returning to the great hall felt an awful lot like walking himself into prison, which was a thing he’d done before in more exciting places. Like Hell. And like Hell, he was met by someone who delighted in his suffering. 

“Rincewind, there you are!” Ridcully said. “Behold! Your new position!” 

He blinked slowly. “What? The bottom of the stairs?”

“Well… yes.” Ridcully sawed his teeth. “And under them. And around them. Congrats, you’re Assistant Footpath Dust and Safety Maintainer.”

Rincewind narrowed his eyes. “I’m a janitor.”

“No, no, no. You are far too important and prestigious to be a janitor. Your an Assistant Footpath Dust and Safety Maintainer.” He handed Rincewind a mop. “Now get to it.”

The Archchanceller marched off in high spirits. Rincewind’s shoulders sagged. He wouldn’t have minded being a janitor if that was what he was, what he _did_ mind was being pandered to. If he was so very important he shouldin’t be yanked around as he was. 

“But since when has what I deserved been a determining factor in my life?” Rincewind said aloud. With a sigh, he put his head down and began the long and tedious process of mopping himself into a corner.


	3. Chapter 3

The Klatchian Emissary was a wiry man with a crooked beard. He had no patience for jokes, anecdotes, or small talk, but all Twoflower had to do (after the customary pleasantries of course) was compliment the magic carpet to score a ride on it. Lotus, Butterfly, and Sixwings watched nervously from the ground.

“He is going to get himself killed,” Butterfly said through clenched teeth. “If not on purpose than on accident. Oh gods, don’t turn a loop!”

She squeezed Sixwings’s hand as the rug did two.

“I don’t think he realizes how important he actually is,” Sixwings agreed. “But then he didn’t seem to know it when he was Grand Vizier, either. How can he be so fully aware and so completely clueless at the same time.”

“My father is not clueless.” Lotus snapped at him.

Affronted, he gaped at her. “You’re seeing the same thing I am, right?” 

“Father knows he can fall off that thing, or be pushed, or crash... he simply expects not to. He never expects bad outcomes when the alternative is possible.”

“That’s cluelessness.”

“It’s optimism.” Lotus said. “Its admirable.”

Butterfly snorted to herself. “Not if it kills him.”

"Besides, I think it looks fun." Lotus had one knee up on the palace wall, testing her own fate for a better look at the spiraling carpet. “Do you think they'd let me take a turn?”

Sixwings snorted. “Clueless runs in the family.”

Butterfly narrowed her eyes. “Second guessing my father’s impulsive thrill-seeking is one thing, but if you insult my little sister I will break up with you.”

The flying carpet shot vertical, hanging for one harrowing second before rocketing straight downward and coasting back to the palace roof. Emperor and Emissary both disembarked with beaming smiles. To Butterfly’s horror, her father was, in fact, wearing his flowered travel shirt. 

Twoflower stumbled dizzily, his face blasted with a powdering of fine dust. He wiped his glasses clear. “That was an amazing ride! If I had one of those things I’d do that every day.”

“Hah!” The emissary said in a deep voice. “You would grow tired of it I am sure.”

“Oh no, believe me! I haven't hat that much fun in ages!”

“Then consider this carpet a gift from my household.” 

“No!” Twoflower nearly slapped himself in the face. “Really? I couldn’t.”

“Call it a personal favor. Carpets were the work of my ancestors before the more modern techniques took over.” The emissary snapped his fingers. The carpet hopped into a tight roll. “Just try not to grow too indulgent.”

“No promises.” Twoflower clapped him on the arm. “Of course this calls for a trade. Have you ever seen sapient pear wood?”

The emissary’s eyes glassed. “I’ve heard terrible stories about… steamer trunks.”

The emperor’s eyebrow arched. “Would you like one?”

The emissary gasped, flustered, and choked on his own breath. “Would I!? Most certainly!”

“Great! I’ll have one sent to your suite.”

“Father,” Butterfly interrupted.

Twoflower noticed the three onlookers with a start. “Hello dear, have you been here this whole time?”

“Yes we were watching your,” she forced a smile. “Trip.”

“Incredible wasn’t it? The carpet’s ours now, I’ll take you out on it if you want.”

Lotus appeared at her sister’s arm. “Me too?”

“Absolutely!”

“Father,” Butterfly said again, this time more firmly. “While you were enjoying yourself, the rest of the Klatchian entourage made it to the gate. Guests for dinner will be arriving within the hour, you should probably go change.”

Twoflower wilted. “Alright, fine. But make sure Mr. Al Halal gets his trunk.” He nodded to the Klatchian. “See you at dinner, emissary.”

Al Halal bowed his head in return. “Your honor.”

Palace guards arrived to escort the important parties to their quarters. Lotus took her father’s arm and walked with him through the palace. “He seems really nice.”

“He is really nice, once you got past his shell.”

“Do you think they’ll be friends with us?”

“I’d like to think we are already, but politics aren’t always as easy as two people getting on,” Twoflower said. “He’ll have to write back to the Seriph and he’ll have to convene with their ruling body and then maybe we can sign official papers or something to become friends, but those interactions are stiff and formal no matter who is conducting them. The part that really matters is the person-to-person part, and I think Mr. Al Halal is open to that much.”

“That’s good,” Lotus leaned into his arm. “Butterfly and Sixwings were talking about you just now.”

“Oh? Do I want to know?”

“They think you make dangerous choices.”

Twoflower shrugged. “I probably do, but it's a calculated risk. That’s the essence of insurance. You invest a little up front and then you know you’re taken care of. It alleviates the worry. I was willing to get on a flying carpet with the emissary and he was willing to do the same with me. That’s an act of trust he won’t forget. When we start talking about economics, politics, and governing he’ll remember and it’ll be his turn getting on the carpet, and I’ll get on with him, and we can be on equal footing.” He squeezed her arm to his side. “And it was a hell of a lot of fun.”

“I’m excited to try!”

“You’ll adore it.”

“Here, sir,” the guard at the head of their entourage announced and took his place beside the emperor’s chamber door. 

“You should get ready for dinner as well,” Twoflower told his daughter. “Everyone’s going to be there.”

“I’m as ready as I must be.” She tugged at her green dress. “I’d rather stay and be your escort.”

“You’re the young lady, I’m supposed to be your escort.”

“You’re the emperor.” She leaned on him again. “And Butterfly won’t now that she has Sixwings.”

“Ah, so that’s what's bothering you.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t be jealous of your sister’s suitor.”

Her face fell in shock. “I’m not!”

“Or time he takes from her.”

She blushed. “Okay maybe I am.”

“Butterfly still loves you very much,” Twoflower said. “And it’s good to see her relax for a change.”

"I don't think she knows how to relax," Lotus replied. “And I don't think she'll get on the flying carpet.”

Twoflower tugged half a smile. “Alright, it'll just be you and I, then.”

He kissed her on the forehead and sent her along to her own chambers. Even though she took after him, there was a lot of his Star in her. It was the loyalty. And the love. Butterfly had their mother’s drive, she would fight armies to get what she wanted, but Lotus used the same as a wall instead of a spear and would battle to keep them all safe in her own gentle way. 

Rhinu to rhinos she’d be waiting in his antechamber when it was time to head out.

***

“I don’t see why they can’t let me alone,” Rincewind groaned as he paced the university library. The Librarian sat atop one of shelves, sorting returns into piles. His long orangutan arms reached across the aisles, slipping books into waiting spaces (all of which somehow managed to be in reach when he needed them.) Rincewind circled his shelf for another lap. “Did you hear they’re making me an assistant pig-keeper now? We don’t even have pigs. It’s daft.”

“Ook.”

“Some friend you are,” the wizard replied. “I don’t have to come here for abuse you know, I can go anywhere on the disc for that.”

“Ook.”

“Yes, well... I’m sure _you_ feel that way. You’re not living my life.”

“Ahem!” The booming voice of the Archchancellor Ridcully echoed off the shelves.

Rincewind pulled his hat over his face and groaned again.

“Ahem!!!”

“Hide me,” Rincewind muttered to the Librarian. “Pretend I’m not here.”

“Ook.”

“Don’t you dare!” Rincewind thrust a finger at the ape. “Don’t you bloody dare, you – ”

“Ook!” The Librarian knuckled off the shelf and swung through the stacks until he planted himself in a nest of old tapestries overlooking the front door.

“Oh, there you are!” Ridcully cheered with all the pride of a man who’d hunted the ape for miles. “Have you seen Official Assistant In High Standing Rincewind?”

“Ook.”

“He’s assistant to the Bursar today and has failed to report. The old man cant file down his _own_ bunions, now can he?”

Rincewind groaned into his hat.

“Oook ook.” The Librarian replied. 

A full conversation in Morporkian was impossible with the Archchancellor, Rincewind had no idea why the Librarian even bothered in orang-utan. He could practically hear Ridcully’s head tilt through the walls of books.

“Not an assistant? My good man, how can a wizard with no aptitude in anything possibly find his niche if he’s not willing to try. It’s for his own good, you’ll see.”

“Ook!”

“Well if you haven’t seen him I suppose it can’t be helped,” the Archchancellor said. “If you do see him, remind him Assistant to the Treasury is a very good job. If he is lucky the Bursar will come around long enough to let him count something!”

Ridcully’s heavy boots clomped slowly toward the door. 

He shouted again. “Yep! Real shame if he missed the opportunity to do that.”

The clomps slowed. 

“I mean if he doesn’t go now he’ll just have to go tomorrow! Or the next day. Or the day after that. There’s a queue for his assistance behind this. Can’t imagine how impatient they’ll be if they’re delayed. Even less fun than assisting them normally I’d expect.”

“Ugh! Fine!” Rincewind crowed toward the ceiling and sulked into view.

“Ah! Rincewind, there you are!” Ridcully smilled. “One would think you didn’t _want_ this advanced position.”

“One would think,” Rincewind replied. “Is there any point in this tenure where I can become Assistant to Sitting Alone in My Room? Or Assistant to Consuming Lunch?”

“Who is doing those things now and needs you to assist them?”

“Not sure, it certainly isn’t me,” Rincewind said. “And I’ve been away from both positions so long I should think I could use an apprenticeship to become re-acquainted.”

“Now, now,” Ridcully said. “You know the saying; an idle mind is Lord Offler’s quadrangle.”

“I should think a god would keep his quadrangle to himself.”

“Well, the gods are gods after all.” The Archchancellor dropped a heavy hand on Rincewind’s insubstantial shoulder. “The Bursar is having a nap right now. Best time to get at those feet of his. Less likely he’s going to fly away.”

“Wonderful.” Rincewind allowed himself to be ushered out of the Library. Fate, luck, and destiny proved again they were not his friends. Perhaps if karma were running a few paces back today, the Bursar would ask him to do the counting first.


	4. Chapter 4

Twoflower had taken one good holiday in his life. One crazy trip that lasted as long as it needed to and went wherever possible. From the moment he got back, he'd basked in the glow of all he’d been able to see and experience. And when he was locked in the dungeon below what eventually became his palace, he spent the whole time dreaming of maybe going out again: visit the places he hadn’t seen yet, surprise himself with who he could be, make new friends, take a million photos. Gaining the throne put a stopper on that. He was too involved in the empire to go afield…at least not yet. Perhaps in the future, when the empire was disassembled and his work on the throne was done, he could follow Cohen’s footsteps and chase that sunset. But for the foreseeable future, he was left to invite the world to him. And for that selfish reason the dinner parties were his favorite part. It gave him something he could experience himself, not hear second hand or read in a book. 

Sometimes it backfired. The Krullans tried to feed him something they pulled out of the harbor when they got there. The Ephebians got confused and came prepared with Agatean food. Fiveorchids insisted the Druids brought human flesh and ordered takeout instead. But curry was going to be different. Twoflower had tried it before. Ankh-Morpork loved it and the embassy in Agatea had hosted more than one official curry night that he crashed “unexpectedly.” They’d done the same at this Klatchian party, bringing good old-fashioned Ankh-Morpork song and dance with them. Fiveorchids rolled his eyes at the door of the dining hall, checking off the half dozen Agatean poets and playwrites he’d lined up for the evening as each of their cues were written over by another drunken round of the hedgehog song.

The Klatchians furnished entertainment as well. Bellydancers and zither players accompanied the curry, surrounding and sometimes walking on the table as the Agatean cultural elite ate with their hands. Butterfly rolled her eyes and leaned toward her father. “This is shameful.”

Twoflower snorted, sending an unfortunate amount of curry up his nose. He wiped his eyes with the folds of his ceremonial robes. “Which part?”

She gestured to the wiggling women. “They’re not wearing any clothes.”

“Yes they are.”

“Okay, then they aren’t wearing enough.” She stared through the dancing legs at the line of palace guards standing along the wall. They were paying close attention to the table, but very little to the diners. Sixwings was among them, particularly fascinated on a young woman running laps of the dining hall in veils. Her sleeves billowed like translucent teal flags from her raised arms. 

Twoflower coughed through his burning sinuses and poked her with his elbow. “You’re a princess, you know. You can give him orders.”

“Can I throw him in the dungeon?”

“I mean, technically...”

“Father!”

Emissary Al Halal dabbed his mustache and spoke from the emperor’s other side. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no everything’s fantastic,” Twoflower choked. “Just, you know, breathed in at the wrong time.”

“Ah yes, that will happen.”

“Thank you for sharing your cultural food with us,” Butterfly said sweetly. “It’s certainly unique.”

“This is but one recipe for the spice,” Al Halal said. “It is the Seriph’s favorite, and he bids your court enjoy it as if it were from his own palace.”

“That’s extremely kind of him,” the emperor said. The teal-clad dancer bent forward into his face with bosom heaving and a decanter in hand. Twoflower jumped at her sudden intrusion, bending far back to give the woman room. Butterfly bristled, only for a second dancer to lean in next to her in a similar fashion, and so on and so on down the row. At the height of the zither player’s zeal, the dancers jangled their hips and poured an chilled liquid into each diner’s glass.

Twoflower bent to see Al Halal beneath his server’s arching torso. “So what’s this?”

“Coffee,” he answered.

“I’ve had coffee other places. Never had it cold… well, not on purpose anyway.”

“You will find no finer bean than the coffee of Klatch,” Al Halal said. “And for after dinner we add our own special flair.”

Two seats down Lotus made a strangled noise as she fought the urge to spit a mouthful across the table. She forced it down. “It’s spicier than the curry!”

Al Halal barked a laugh. “Your girl is as anxious for new experiences as you are, Emperor. Although after a quaff like that she may think twice.”

“No it’s...” Lotus’s voice squeaked out an octave too high. “It’s very good. Just, shocking.”

“We will prepare some in a more traditional fashion for you tomorrow, princess.” Al Halal said. “Sweet and milky with a generous amount of honey.”

Lotus smiled, tears still in her eyes. “That sounds wonderful.” 

Butterfly sipped her coffee more carefully. Twoflower watched, noting each new expression as she considered the taste. Butterfly smacked her lips and set the cup back down. “I think it would be better hot.”

The emissary snickered. “You would improve our traditional beverage?”

“I was considering how the Klatchian way would work here in the Agatean Empire," Butterfly said, unflustered. "The purpose of an exchange is not to copy whole-cloth, but to adapt. That is why we invited you here, after all.”

“True, you wished to ask about our economic systems and forms of government,” Al Halal directed the statement to Twoflower. “The Seriph found it a very forward question. He was not pleased to receive your invitation.”

Butterfly watched the belly dancers writhe away. “I never would have guessed.”

“Curiosity changed his mind,” Al Halal said. “The Agatean Empire has been sealed behind walls for centuries. We heard it was conquered from within."

Al Halal's tone had a barb in it - fishing for a telling reaction - but Twoflower was either two naive or too casual to take the bait. He shrugged. "Barbarians. I will say Emperor Cohen did a fine job with the short time he had."

"And now you probe neighbors for how they operate.”

“Only probing as far as you’re willing to share,” Twoflower said. “This is a season of change, and we want to consider every new way of thinking.”

“To better rise against threat.”

“To better shape ourselves,” Twoflower insisted.

“To reveal cracks.” Al Halal lowered his voice. “You seem a kind man. Consider what such inquisition might imply to your guests, and what it might reveal in exchange.”

Butterfly’s tone was sharp as a blade. “It is considered.” 

Twoflower grimaced. “Come now, if the Seriph is not comfortable sharing, then no one is forcing him. He’s been more than generous with what he’s already sent. If this is nothing but a friendly visit I have no problem sending back a very nice thank you note.”

“My apologies,” Al Halal said. “I did not mean to cause upset feelings. We will discuss it more at the established meeting time tomorrow. For now, please enjoy.”

He raised his glass. Twoflower did the same, followed by a gulp that left him sputtering and gagging. The fire of cinnamon and alcohol seared both up and down his throat, until the concept of air was as foreign as the beverage itself. Lotus watched him cough with concern. Al Halal threw his head back and laughed.

***

Rincewind teetered at the top of a ladder, chalking examples of recent runes at the top of a sliding chalkboard. The Lecturer sat below, building a sandwich. Rincewind unhooked the knee he used to counter his body weight and leaned as far out as he could to reach naked slate. “Sir?”

The Lecturer in Recent Runes put another layer of ham and cheese on his meal. “Yes?”

“Is it wise to have me writing runes up here?”

“Why wouldn't it be?"

"Runes can be powerful magic. Some are even sentient. You don't want anything from another dimension having conversations up here. Especially with me an inch away."

"Oh don't worry. From what I hear you're rubbish at magic."

Rincewind paused his writing to stare down at the top of the Lecturer's hat through slitted eyes.

The professor seemed not to notice. "Besides. Those runes aren’t actual magic.”

Rincewind’s grip slipped. He yanked himself back onto the ladder so fast it swung counter-balance in anticipation. The ladder tipped and caught itself tight at an angle between a bookshelf and the wall. He dangled precariously by one hand, the chalk still grasped and ready to write in the other. “What do you mean they aren’t magic?”

“Of course they aren't,” the Lecturer said. “Where would we be if we started teaching the children actual magic in class?”

“Competent?"

“They _resemble_ recent runes enough to speak about them plainly. The fact that they are not _actually_ recent runes will go unnoticed.”

“When their homework is inert linear garbage it will be.”

“But it still less noticeable than if it spontaneously caught fire,” the Lecturer said. “Honestly you never grasped the difference between theory and application.”

Rincewind stretched his leg to hook a rung and pull himself back to safety. The shift in weight twisted the ladder against the shelf. He felt it creak deep in its shafts. “Theory seems largely irrelevant.”

“On the contrary, much of what we know is a theory. Pre-volution is a theory. The Law of Weight Distribution is a theory. Gravity is a theory.”

“I find gravity is often also an application.” Rincewind adjusted his grip on the chalk, three body lengths away from where he left off. He and swung himself in attempt to move the ladder back where it was. The wood creaked further.

“No no, you’re confused," the Lecturer said after chewing and swallowing. "Application doesn’t mean it does something. It means we study it doing something. Even when I give a lecture in application no one actually _applies._ That’s foolish. We are here to learn. That is… the students are here to learn. Or at least so I’m told.”

_No wonder I was expelled_, Rincewind thought as he twisted himself around the ladder. Perhaps reading from the Octavo was forbidden, but the real crime was doing something useful. He got his chalk ready and checked the parchment in his belt for what he was meant to transcribe next. More functionless messes of random swoops and cross-hatches. A waste of everyone’s time, especially his. He leaned back over the chalkboard. There was a crack, then a snap. Rincewind’s chalk slashed a sweeping line across the cluttered board as he entered free fall. Upon intersecting one of the garbage shapes a hollow voice rang out. There was a flash of light. The smolder of brimstone. Rincewind was blasted across the length of the lecture hall and into a Rincewind-shaped hole on the exact opposite side.

The Lecturer in Recent Runes put down his sandwich, looked up and the blackened silhouette, turned to face the chalkboard, and started taking notes.


	5. Chapter 5

The party went long into the night and morning came far earlier than Twoflower would have liked. The curry came with stomach pain that reminded him he was not as young as he used to be, and the coffee (or rather he guessed, whatever liquor went into the coffee) gave him a headache that lived directly behind his eyes. Still, the show must go on as they say, and so the emperor rose with the sun and joined Butterfly and Lotus in the throne room, ready to hear the Klatchian's "government and economics" presentation.

Al Halal spoke grandly of the nation of Klatch surrounded by a luscious assembly of trunks, maps, treasure, and dancing girls posed like ornaments in a display case. The emissary was apparently unaffected by the feast (probably used to crazy eating as a member of the Seriph’s royal council) and the deep boom of his voice made Twoflower’s ears buzz. Butterfly and Lotus weren’t suffering either, but then they didn’t throw themselves into the curry quite as much as he did. Twoflower breathed a chestful of cold air, praying Butterfly was paying better attention and grateful to have Fiveorchids to note the terms and figures boinking off his aching skull. Lotus sat at the edge of her ornamental seat, sparing no concern for the politics happening around them and pouring all of it into her eyes as she watched Twoflower sink against his backrest. The emperor showed her the most sincere smile he could manage without engaging his jaw muscles and turned attention back to the emissary.

“The treasury of Al-Khali was maintained historically by conquest, but the relics of the past have little bearing on the dayto-day role of Klatch the nation on the larger Klatch the continent,” Al Halal droned. “The economic power of our historic Seriphate towers above both neighbors and distant enemies.”

“Yes, we’ve heard of your rivalry with Ankh-Morpork,” Butterfly leaned forward. “As the show last night aptly displayed, the Agatean Empire is on good terms with the city-state, so we have heard a lot of rumor about the Klatchian economic power through elephants, magic, tall tales, and improv comedy.”

“If by magic you mean advanced and ingenious leadership,” Al Halal replied.

Butterfly cocked her head. “And genies?” 

“Occasionally.”

“This isn’t an interrogation.” The sound of Twoflower’s own voice rattled like a clapper in his head. “Magic is a natural resource. I’m more interested in how the system works, not its value compared to neighbors. I know what my resources are. What I don’t know is how they interact with yours, whether or not they end up doing so.”

Al Halal’s shoulders lowered from around his ears. “Of course. I am merely reading the statement the Seriph’s council approved.”

“Explain the council again to me.”

“I had not explained them yet.”

“Then please explain them for the first time.” Twoflower’s eyes sagged.

The emissary’s brow knit. “Are you all right, Emperor?”

“Yes, yes fine,” he said. Lotus scooted an inch closer.

“The council is an assembly of thirty powerful men appointed by the Seriph himself as advisers or warlords, whatever he may need.”

“He assigns his own?”

“Yes, it’s an old tradition.”

“What happens if they disagree?”

“It depends entirely on the degree with which they do.”

“I see.” Twoflower’s eyes drooped heavy again. He jumped at the touch of Lotus’s hand on his wrist. “I’m fine. What? Sorry!”

“Father,” Lotus whispered. “You fell asleep.”

“I what?” He sprang up straight, cuing a wave of fresh nausea to lap up his throat. He swallowed it and met Al Halal’s eye. “I am so sorry.”

“You do not look at all well,” Al Halal said. “Perhaps the frivolity last night was a bit much for you?”

“I doubt it was that,” Twoflower replied. “Coffee and curry usually don’t affect me this much.”

“The coffee did have a lot of alcohol.”

“I’d be surprised if that was the problem but I’ll go ahead and admit I’m not feeling myself this morning.” Twoflower rubbed his temples. “I meant no disrespect.”

“None taken.” Al Halal folded his hands behind his back. “Perhaps we should stop for now and resume this afternoon so you can take some rest.”

Twoflower inhaled another cold breath with relief. “You don’t mind?” 

“No, of course not.” Al Halal snapped his fingers, summoning one of the many handmaidens from the display of wealth behind him. She appeared with a leather-bound book held as an offering over her head. Al Halal raised it from her upheld hands and carried it up the dais, presenting it to the emperor with a broad sweep of his hand. “In case you feel better before our audience and would like to read more about our country.”

Twoflower’s delight beamed through his discomfort. “Its gorgeous!”

“You said in your invitation to bring written accounts.”

“Yes, but look at it.” He opened the heavy tome on his lap, marveling at the sweeping, hand-written accounts of Klatchian history. He opened to a gorgeous illustration of a public beheading that reminding the knot in his throat and the turn in his stomach that he was, in fact, very ill. “Th-thank you, Emissary.”

“Yes, thank you. For this and your patience. For now I will get my father to bed.” Butterfly took the book from Twoflower’s hands and dismissed the Klatchian entourage with a curt but respectful bow. “Have your people consult with Fiveorchids about arranging a later time.”

Al Halal nodded. “As you wish, princess.”

Lotus moved from her seat to Twoflower’s arm as the assembly cleared their massive display. “What’s the matter? How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, dear, really,” he said. “A little under the weather, maybe. I’m sure it’ll pass.”

“Let me take you back to your room.”

“Don’t be silly, I can manage.” Twoflower rose slowly as not to aggravate his head. “Let me have that book, I’ll keep it handy...”

“Nope, you rest.” Butterfly handed it to Lotus. “Take this to his office.”

Lotus gasped, nearly heartbroken. “But...”

“I’ll get him to bed. Put this thing away.”

“But...” Lotus pressed her lips tight and rose from Twoflower’s side. She took the book without looking at her sister. “As you wish.”

Twoflower watched her scurry out an adjoining door and frowned at his eldest. “What was that about?”

“She was getting overwhelmed.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“I’ve seen it before.” Butterfly spoke softly as she took Twoflower’s arm. “Lotus is a sensitive girl who’s grown into a very sensitive woman. I don’t want her to overreact.”

“Nonsense,” Twoflower said. “Yes Lotus is perceptive, but she’s far from a worrier.”

“Not when it comes to you,” Butterfly whispered.

Twoflower considered her words as they descended the dais. They entered hidden door in the curtained wall behind the thrones, taking a back passage shortcut to the royal wing of the palace. Chambers intended for concubines, eunuchs, and slaves sat empty along the branching corridors. Cohen got rid of the eunuchs. Twoflower the other two. He had no interest in keeping people captive, and more than enough servants on payroll (including some of the eunuchs out of uniform). As for the concubines, he assumed they were pillaged by the barbarians and let them all go home with care packages on legs. It was only weeks later, when he saw several of them wearing scraps of clothing on red-lit street corners that he realized what they’d been kept for, and why they were giving him such nasty looks about it. 

Walking helped his stomach, but did nothing for his head. Butterfly kept her hand on his elbow like she thought he might get lost. Even in the back hall, the entrance to his quarters was imperial, surrounded by red and gold upholstered wallpaper and hung with a beaten iron barbarian shield that was never taken down.

“Do you need help?” Butterfly asked. 

“No.” Twoflower gulped at the knot in his chest and took his daughter’s hands. “We never really talked about the Red Army did we? More than relaying events and positions. That’s my failing I suppose. I didn’t think about how it affected you.”

“It made me a stronger person.”

“It put you in a lot of danger.”

“Important danger,” she said. “The Emperor took everything from the common man.”

He dared look her in the eye. “From the two of you?”

Butterfly’s face tightened, but she didn’t look away. Her fingers pressed into his palms. “We thought you were killed, Father. The Emperor killed people so easily. Lotus cried many nights over what happened, but she never gave up hope that she might see you again. I’m not like that. It was easier to try and accept it than work toward an answer that would break my heart a second time.”

“Hope is sometimes a risk, but it’s a risk worth taking.”

“You’re going to say that you’re proof, right?” She cut a sarcastic grin. “I suppose that’s _my_ failing.”

“You and Lotus are different kinds of people,” Twoflower said. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing that you scrutinize the world. You are trying to protect your sister, that’s good. Just don’t punish her for her feelings. Your mother worried. She imagined future scenarios in which things could go wrong. The only solution to that line of reasoning was talking the troubles out, not bottling them up and keeping them to herself.”

“That’s what she had you for.”

“Hmm.” He smiled to himself, but thoughts of Star brought a new ache in his already aching chest. “Let Lotus feel what she feels and listen to her. Keeping worry to herself will only make her worry more.”

“I’ll try.” Butterfly opened his chamber door. “Now get to bed. I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”

“Yes, princess,” Twoflower said. 

Butterfly pressed a hand to his cheek. He covered it with his own and released her back into the hall. 

The Emperor’s suite had a sleeping chamber, a dressing chamber, a sitting room, and a washroom. Twoflower peeled himself out of the stiff imperial garb, dressed in a loose set of silk pajamas, spent a long and unpleasant time in the bathroom and crawled back into bed.

***

“The Head of Medical Faculty said you have no broken bones,” the Dean of Pentacles said to his study. “I know you’re in here. I can smell your morphogenic field.”

Rincewind cowered under the Dean’s desk. He’d been removed from his position as Assistant Runic Transcripitoner after displaying his skill in the most recent of recent runes and was unexpectedly reassigned as Assistant to the Dean of Pentacles, which had no specifics he could cling to and no task he could imagine that was unpainful. He didn’t care what the Head of Medical Faculty said, he was pretty sure he broke at least a clavicle. 

“Rincewind!” The Dean boomed. He moved toward the desk. Rincewind watched his feet and crawled around the furniture to stay out of view. The Dean hooked his hands on his portly hips. “Come now, Rincewind, you are being childish.”

If he could only make it to the door. If he could make it to the door, he could escape and the Dean would circle his study for hours trying to find him while he finally got a nap.

“Aha!” A meaty hand reached over the top of the desk and snared Rincewind by the collar. “Two points for me.”

“Ah… Dean.” Rincewind hung from his tattered robe like a scruffed cat. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“This is my study.”

“Then fancy meeting me here.”

“You’re my assistant.”

“I was afraid of that.” Rincewind straightened his legs and stood, realigning his hat and robe with a pair of sharp tugs. “Alright, Dean, alright. What is my assignment. What aimless chore do you want me to do, what body part do you want me to wax?”

“Here.” The Dean lifted a teetering stack of papers from a drawer in his desk and loaded them into Rincewind’s arms.

For a moment, hope lit a match in the wizard’s heart. “Am I grading these?”

“Grading, no!” The Dean said. “These are student applications. They’re people intending to get _in_ to the college.”

The match spread to kindling. “And I have to sort them based on a listed criteria?”

“No, there are no criteria.”

“So...” His inner flame started fading. He fanned at it desperately. “I need to file them in a great big filing cabinet of some kind?”

“No I want you to destroy them,” the Dean said. 

“Aren’t we accepting any more students?”

“Those are from the last decade or so,” the Dean said. “If they aren’t enrolled already I’m sure as hells not going to sign them up now. Walk that pile down to the furnaces and come back here for another load.”

“How many of these are there?”

“Oh two, three thousand. They’ve been building up for a while.”

“Three thousand….” Rincewind’s heart sank. “Are you _sure_ I can’t alphabetize them or something first?”

The Dean’s face stretched wide like a bearded toad. “You baffle me, Rincewind. I told you to burn them, now get yourself moving or you won’t make it through the hundreds. There’s a lot of stairs between here and the furnace.”

The wizard sighed. “Fine. Fine.” He hooked his chin on the top of the stack of papers and shuffled off like a human dolly. There had to be a better way to do this. They were top-level wizards. Any one of them at any point in the last ten years could have simply vanished the pages out into empty space, or if that was too much trouble, lit an ordinary match. No, this was purposeful, Rincewind thought. They were doing this _to_ him on purpose, it was all he could figure. Everyone on staff got together to pick on poor Rincewind now that he was finally back in Ankh-Morpork and around for them to trouble. He didn’t have to take it. He could dump these papers and run. There’d be no one there to stop him. 

Who was he kidding. He’d spent his whole life running away in attempt to find peace and it seemed the further he ran, the less peace there was to find. As if fate and all its friends hooked him with a rubber band and the faster and farther he pulled the harder he would snap back.

And he had to admit it. He was tired of running. It never worked out for him the way he would like. He just wanted to sit quiet, and rest and maybe do something boring. And instead, everyone in Unseen University thought he needed something to keep him _busy_.

When he got to the basement he was going to alphabetize, if only to please himself.


	6. Chapter 6

And alphebetize Rincewind did. For as long as he possibly could. He lost sense of time and space and bodily needs. He was like a hoarding dragon curled around his many stacks of paper, hunting letters in the dark.

"And that is all the 'A's." The wizard cast the lovingly sorted pile of rejected applications into the open grate of the nearest furnace and fanned himself with his hat. Sweat meant hard work. The shaking probably also meant hard work... or malnutrition. He replaced his hat and leaned forward over his carpet of pages with a smile. "On to the 'B's!"

He didn't recognize any of the names, which wasn't really surprising because they were rejected, but he hoped that at least a couple of them would have re-applied when their letters went unanswered. He had, kind of. After that big trip around the world in which he met the depths of fear, discomfort, futility, etc Rincewind became the one living wizard in all of history to read the eight spells of the Octavo and considering the entire senior faculty had been murdered or turned to stone the new administration kind of honorarily graduated him to full wizard status without caring much about it. The senior staff never cared about much in general except when dinner was served and whether or not they had to do anything other than eat it. And about yanking Rincewind around it seemed. The faculty were oddly interested in that. It wasn't because he was useful (he'd made an effort not to be.) Too bad failing was the one thing he excelled in.

"Perhaps they could name me the Dean of Failure?" Rincewind wondered to himself as he stuck "Roderick Bordingo" behind "Xerxes Bordinga" in his stack. "The Senior of Failure? The Expert? Hells I'd settle for just Professor. Welcome to the first day of class, I'm the Professor of Failure. You all already know your grades. Get out."

He put "Germaine Bordingi" between "ga" and "go." It did not bring the joy he hoped that it would. He thought about the stacks of paper waiting for him in the Dean's office and wondered how long until he came downstairs looking for him. It was entirely possible Rincewind could just live down there forever, avoiding responsibility, sorting things, never speaking or hearing from another person, but while that scenario might have been a dream for past Rincewind, present Rincewind was flopping the stack of "B"s into the furnace. Heat and light flashed from the open grate, sending bits of young men's dreams fluttering outward like a scorched confetti. Rincewind sat back on his heels, numb, disappointed, and confused.

A thunk intruded on his tomb. A light appeared in the darkness beyond the furnace light. Rincewind scrambled to his feet and ducked behind the open furnace. Magical feedback buzzed in his ears. He wasn't a good wizard, but being a wizard is something a person is born to do and the buzz and pop of concentrated magic was something the hair on his arms knew before he did. He peeked his head just far enough into the clear to see past the cone of illumination, praying to whatever god didn't have it out for him that day that it wasn't the Archchancellor.

"Watch where you're going, Adrian! You'll scare away the rats."

Ponder Stibbons. The youngest of the faculty by far and director of... what was his title now? He was massing them almost as fast as Rincewind was. Another man with the luck to fail upward, perhaps?

Rincewind straightened his sooty robes and stepped into the light. "Um... oi there!"

"What?" Ponder joined him in the circle of papers. Orange light reflected harshly off his spectacles. "Rincewind? What are you doing down here?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing, really."

Stibbons' student assistant Adrian ambled into view holding a candle and an empty cage. Ponder cleared his throat and straightened to full height. "If you must know, we are catching rats."

Rincewind dropped his head to one side. "New hobby?"

"It's for research," Ponder said. "Alright, it's for Hex. The mice escaped AGAIN last night and it it won't go without them. Can't imagine who is leaving that cage unlatched...."

"Wasn't me," Rincewind said. "You're about the only member of staff I _haven't _ failed to assist yet."

Ponder stopped mid-thought with an awakening nod. "Oh yes, they're doing that to you, aren't they?"

Rincewind's heart stuttered. "What?"

"None of my assistants would have a reason to open the cages anyway. Not since we installed that cheese wheel. Unless..." Ponder stopped mid-word with his mouth hung open. Rincewind couldn't see the eyes behind his glasses but knew a Ponder Stibbons brainstorm when he saw one. The young researcher fished in his robe for a notebook and pen. "How much artificial thinking do you suppose it would take to awaken a rodent's higher intelligence?"

"Couldn't say, really," Rincewind said. "What are they doing to me?"

"The mice get out about once every other month. If I make a note of the date perhaps we can turn this into a proper academic paper. An excellent aside to my theories." He paused his notation. "Perhaps we should forego the rats..."

"What are they doing," Rincewind said, more forcefully. 

"The rats? Being scarce. The mice... honestly at this point all bets are off."

"To me!" Rincewind said. "You said 'they're doing that to you aren't they?' That means something!"

"Passing you like a baton," Ponder said. "Hoping you'll find somewhere to stick."

"Stick?"

"What are you right now? Assistant Furnace Stoker?"

"Assistant to the Pentacles."

"So that's why the Dean's upset."

"Listen, you," Rincewind leveled a finger on him. "I didn't ask to be messed around like this. I want to be left alone."

"Then be left alone," Ponder replied. "You're the Dean's problem, not mine. I didn't throw my name in that hate and I didn't come down here looking for you, I came looking for volatile intelligence components, so unless you want to run a wheel in my lab I'm happy to go on ignoring you like you never came back at all."

"Okay, fine." Rincewind folded his arms. "Ignore me."

"I will."

"Good."

"Fine." Ponder waved to Adrian. "Back to the rats."

Rincewind sat among his papers and fumed as the other wizards wandered back out into the dark. "I never asked to be shoveled around like this. I’ve been to other worlds.” He plopped cross-legged onto the floor, scattering the top layers of his different stacks. The joy had evaporated completely in the heat of the dispute. His heart was full of grumbles and discontent, but also a heavy sense of rejection. What had Ponder said? 'Like you never came back at all'?

A hollow pit opened inside him. There was no telling how long he was away from the University... it somehow felt like both a day and a decade. He was looking forward to coming home, but was he happy? No. Just like he wanted to be left alone.... and he suddenly felt very, very alone. 

Rincewind kicked all his alphebetized papers into a pile, shoveled them into the fire and scrambled after the retreating lamplight. 

***

After cutting short to care for the emperor's illness, the meeting with Al Halal was rescheduled for mid-afternoon. Butterfly took the intervening time to read up on Klatch in the archives and page through the leather tome the emissary sent. There was a lot of conflicting information, but that was par for the course when it came to these foreign visitations. Every new delegation wanted to look more powerful or intelligent or wealthy than they really were. What was said aloud was less informative than what they kept quiet.

The Klatchian book was filled with the authority and honor of the Seriph. It was an emporership, like the empire, yet Al Halal boasted about an advisory council to make them appear more democratic. Were they hiding their totalitarian nature from Agatea, or from their own people in the wake of royal infighting and conflict overseas. This visit would do Agatea no good. She and her father intended to make a nation to serve the people, not to establish another kingship. They needed to embrace the people, Butterfly believed it with all her heart. The people's good was what the Red Army was made for. What her comrades fought and died for... even if they were better at the dying part than the fighting part. That was why it was so important. She by herself had no power to avenge her family when everything was taken away from her. She built the Red Army to take that power back, and the passion that fueled her then fueled her still – she wanted justice for the working man, and a chance for Agatea to grow and change with the rest of the disc.

Butterfly had anchored down another scroll of pictographs when Sixwings rapped lightly on the door. “Pretty?” 

She grimaced at the attempted nickname. No one had called her “Pretty Butterfly” since her mother. Butterfly pivoted her the seat. “Yes?”

“The Klatchians are reassembling that garish stage in throne room. You should probably wake your father.”

Butterfly spun to see the weighted clock. She’d studied all the way through lunch. “Damn!”

Butterfly pulled the pin out of her bun on her way out of the office, tossing her long tresses to make herself presentable for audience. The halls of the palace were lined with paper shades, mounted fans, and massive pictograms. She slid open a set of double blinds and shoo'd a pair of guards away from the double doors blocking the royal chambers. Unlike the service corridor, the main hallway was elaborately decorated with real wooden doors and floor-to-ceiling watercolor paintings. The door to the emperor’s chamber was the grandest one in the hall, laid with gold and framed by a massive landscape painting of the Empire. A golden pheonix lighted on the edge of the door frame. Butterfly knocked lightly. “Father?” 

There was no reply. She knocked louder. 

“Father? Are you up?”

The door opened to reveal Lotus Blossom.

Butterfly took a double take. “Is Father up?”

“No, he's still sleeping."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I was sitting with him.” She blushed a shade. "You know, in case he needed something."

“Lotus...” Butterfly readied an exasperated retort but stopped herself, recalling the conversation she and her father shared in the hall. "Did he rest?"

Lotus’s brow knit. “Fitfully. I'm... I don't like that he's ill. It's not normal for him.”

“You're overthinking,” Sixwings consoled. “It’s probably just a hangover.” 

Lotus’s frown deepened. “He’s not a drunk.”

“I know he’s not. That’s why he’s been sacked by one drink.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Butterfly said to them both. “Let me get him up.”

The Emperor didn’t stir when the light of the hall crossed his bed. Butterfly knelt and squeezed his shoulder. Twoflower’s nose wrinkled. “Mmph?” 

“You overslept," she said, sweetly. "The Emissary is waiting.”

“Mmph.” 

“I’ll get your clothes ready.” Butterfly lit the lamps on her way to his dressing room. The garb he wore that morning was still in a discarded lump on the floor. It was too wrinkled to wear again, and there was no time to press it. Butterfly stepped around laundry heap and gathered the many layers and drapes of imperial formal wear from the wardrobe along the wall. 

Lotus followed her into the dressing chamber. "I don't think this is wise."

"This meeting is pointless," Butterfly muttered over her shoulder. "The sooner we get it over-with the better."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be concerned."

"Of course I'm concerned," Lotus snapped at the edge of a whisper. "You've been shutting me out all day. If the meeting is so inconsequential you should cancel and let Father rest while he obviously needs it."

Butterfly piled Lotus's arms with garments and returned to the bedchamber. Twoflower at the edge of his enormous bed rubbing his temples with his glasses beside him on the down comforter. Sixwings stood at attention, looking unsure. Butterfly directed him to stand at ease and addressed her father. “Did the nap help?”

“Mmph,” Twoflower replied. 

Butterfly glanced to Lotus over the pile of garments. The younger sister raised her eyebrows in plaintiff appeal. Butterfly pressed her lips, Lotus wasn't an idiot. Perhaps if she was worried it was for a good reason. She knelt beside Twoflower and put a hand on his knee. “You sound tired. Do you want me to reschedule again?”

“No, it’s fine.” His words were slow. His were eyes still closed. “It’ll pass.”

“Would tea help?”

The rubbing moved from his head to his eyes. “Maybe.”

“I’ll get it.” Lotus set the mound of clothes in a chair by the wall and crossed to a tea service waiting on it's customary tray.

“Make some black tea,” Butterfly called to her. “It’s good for headaches.”

“No. Ginger,” Twoflower corrected. “Or mint if I'm out. No milk. No sugar.”

Butterfly pressed her lips. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

"All right is asking a lot." He reached for his glasses and finally looked up at her. His eyes were tired, but as conscious and alight as ever. "But duty calls as they say. I asked these people here from a hemicircle away, I’m not going to stand them up.”

“Very noble,” Sixwings agreed.

Butterfly absorbed a bit of the soldier’s confidence and nodded. “Alright, come in the dressing room and I’ll get you ready.”

Twoflower took a deep breath and shoved up from the low bed. Butterfly checked the garments Lotus had discarded. The whole point was not to wrinkle them, now they were crumpled in a mound. The undergarments were likely fine, but the gown on top had a crease. There were another half dozen of them in the wardrobe, left over from previous rulers. Good thing Cohen hadn't burned them all when he took the throne.

She entered the dressing room for a replacement garment and heard a heavy thud from behind, followed by shattering porcelain. Lotus cried out. “Father!”

Butterfly dropped everything and dashed back. Twoflower was laid on the floor with Lotus bending over him. He rose to a sitting position with her help. "Ow."

Sixwings hovered just beyond arm’s reach. “Are you alright, sir?”

“I don’t know. I got so dizzy.” Twoflower cradled his head in one hand. “This headache....”

“You didn’t hit your head did you?” Butterfly knelt and brushed her hand through his graying hair. The skin beneath was burning with fever. 

Lotus’s voice wavered. "I told you he needed more rest."

"Okay, you're right." Butterfly gestured to Sixwings. “Let’s get him back in bed.”

The soldier took her command as permission. He hooked the Emperor under the arms and hauled him back to the bedside. Lotus swooped in beneath, her arm around Twoflower’s back. “Be careful!”

Sixwings backed away. “I was!”

Lotus turned full attention on her father as he eased into the pillows. “It was a mistake to wake you, please forgive us. Go right back to sleep. We will tell the Emissary you can’t see him.”

Twoflower wilted against the linen. "This is so embarrassing. They leave tomorrow morning. I hate for them to come so far at my request and leave with nothing." 

“Not nothing,” Lotus said. "They had a lovely dinner."

Twoflower cut half a smile. "I hope so."

Butterfly's concern boiled into determination and a touch of anger. She drew closer and pressed his warm hand between her two palms. “They will not leave unfinished business. I've been studying their literature. Their government is not what we're looking for. I can hold the meeting in your stead.”

Twoflower's brow arched. "By yourself?"

"I will have Fiveorchids, and Sixwings will be with me." She glanced to the soldier for confirmation. He snapped back to attention with a proud smile. Butterfly's heart swelled as she slid her hand up Twoflower's arm. "This way you can sleep without any concern. I'll take care of it, if you trust me.”

“Of course I trust you,” he said. "You're as much a ruler of this Empire as I am. I'm only concerned because of Al Halal -- he's nice, but he's not really here to be friends with us."

"What do you mean?"

"We're office friends," Twoflower said. "Like the accountant at the desk next to you. He's nice and all, you get lunch sometimes, but he intends to take your position some day and doesn't think you've noticed because you always smile back at him."

Sixwings couldn't help looking impressed. "That's very perceptive, your honor."

"Most of these meetings have been like that." Twoflower shut his eyes. "They take as many notes about Agatea as we do about their presentations. They learn that we're friendly, and pleasant, and not built of solid gold like the legends profess. And hopefully they learn that we're harmless. I do want to make friends with these places -- even if it's office quality friends. Its more helpful to be friendly than cagey with your neighbors."

"I will thank him for his time and bid him a fond farewell," Butterfly stated confidently as she fought a flurry of doubts. "Do you want me to say anything else?"

Twoflower exhaled heavily, as if releasing all tension. “No, that will be fine.”

“Then I'll do it right now.” She bent to kiss his fever-heated brow. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

“I won't. You'll do fine.”

Butterfly’s heart doubled speed as she stood. She considered all the preparation she didn’t have time for, and questions she needed to ask. It was like with the Red Army, she had no choice but to take charge. She sniffed and steadied her nerves. “Lotus, go get the court physician.”

Lotus rose as well. “And leave him alone?”

“Just for a moment - ”

"No!"

Twoflower glanced between his daughters. 

Lotus took Butterfly’s arm and pulled her close enough to whisper. “You have been ordering me around all day. You may be adviser but that doesn’t not make me your servant. Anyone can run errands. I will stay with Father until he's well. That's my choice.”

"But the physician..." Butterfly started, but stalled at her sister’s face. Lotus had always been demure and deferential, even as a soldier. People often said Lotus Blossom took after Twoflower more than Butterfly did because she was always optimistic. In truth, what she inherited was his trusting nature. She believed Butterfly when she said their father was dead, and she believed Twoflower when he said things would work out. Lotus wanted to be reassured, and Butterfly was failing her, and it was only turning them against each other.

Sixwings broke the tension. “I’ll get the physician. Lotus can stay here."

It was Butterfly's turn to feel attacked. "But the audience..."

"I'll come straight there," he said. "Besides, this is your time to shine, Miss Empress.”

Butterfly her stomach flipped. “Don’t call me that.”

His eyes slit in amusement. “As you wish, Pretty.” 

Sixwings bowed and hurried to his errand. Butterfly took a deep breath and put a hand on Lotus’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for odering you around, I'm just stressed. Of course you should stay with Father.”

Lotus relaxed. "Are you sure you're alright having this meeting?”

“I have to be.” Butterfly brushed fly-away hairs out of her face. “When you talk to the doctor, make sure to ask him about food poisoning.”

“Is that what you think he has?”

“The timing would be right," Butterfly said. "And we did have a lot of unusual food last night.”

“But you and I ate the same and we aren’t sick.”

“We’re not under the same stress he always is.” Butterfly spoke loud enough for Twoflower to hear. “You two sit tight. I’ll be back after the meeting to tell you how it went. And I want to know everything the doctor says. Okay?”

“Okay,” Lotus said. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Butterfly left, taking a lot of the nervous energy out of the room with her.


	7. Chapter 7

Lotus shut the door, dimmed the lamps, and fixed up a damp towel from the bathroom. Twoflower was lying peacefully with his eyes closed and glasses on, looking more like a child than the old man he was rapidly becoming. Lotus tried not to wake him as she lifted the frames. Twoflower opened his eyes. “I suppose that conversation just now means you are my nurse?”

“Yes.” An odd embarrassment crept with blush up her face. “Is that okay?”

“I’m always happy to see you. Even if you’re a huge blur at the moment.”

“You want your glasses back?”

“No, I’m alright.” His eyes closed again. “I don’t want you to think I’m an invalid, you know. I’m sure its just a flu or something.”

“A flu can be dangerous.”

“Perhaps in the wilds somewhere, but not in the Agatean Empire. Especially now that we’ve stopped using leeches for everything. There’s a whole world of new medicines out there, you know. In Ankh-Morpork they have alchemists devoted to nothing BUT medicine. It’s not a bad vocation as far as I understand. One of the few wings of the Alchemists Guild unlikely to blow up.”

Lotus bit her lip and dabbed the wet cloth across his brow. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable giving you medicine like that.”

“Oh, I’m sure Eaglecress has his favorite tinctures or what-have-you," Twoflower waved a hand. "He hasn't exploded anything yet… at least nothing he reported to me. Do discourage him if he suggests any sort of blood-letting ritual. I’ve been told I’m somewhat fearless, but I’m not very excited about blood.”

She draped the cloth across his forehead. “You leave it to me.”

A knock sounded. Sixwings peeked in from the main hall. “Princess?”

“Yes, come in.”

The soldier raised the lights. Twoflower recoiled, squinting. Lotus jumped pulled the cloth down over his eyes. “Be careful!”

He raised his hands again. “What?”

The court physician, Eaglecress, bustled to the bedside tailed by a walking pearwood cabinet on the end of a silver chain. “Forgive my delay, Princess.”

“We hardly had to wait.” She stood to give him access to the bed. “He’s running a fever and complaining of headache. He’s also fallen once.”

“Badly?”

“I don’t think so.”

The doctor removed Lotus’s compress. “Your honor?”

Twoflower’s eyes opened. “Yes?”

“How do you feel?”

“I’m alright laying down. Better than I was.”

“Tell me the symptoms.”

“Hm.” he flexed his shoulders against the mattress. “Woke up with a headache. Turned to nausea. Was sick a couple times. Dizzy.”

“You were sick?” Lotus asked. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, I’m not proud of it.”

The doctor took Twoflower’s wrist, counting heartbeats as he ushered his cabinet closer. “Shortness of breath?”

“No.”

“Cramps or swelling?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Lotus’s voice squeaked. Sixwings put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hmm." Eaglecress employed an odd bell-shaped gadget to listen to Twoflower’s chest and a glass temprameter to check his fever. “Well, there is certainly something afoot, but I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Probably just a bug. You work too hard, your honor.”

Twoflower exhaled a muffled sigh and sank deeper into the pillows. “I work as hard as I have to.”

“I’m going to give you some medicine.” 

"Um..." Lotus interrupted. "Nothing... foreign, is it?"

"It is a potion of my own invention. Take it regularly, myself." Eaglecress pulled an opaque brown bottle from his supplies and poured the thick, molasses-looking syrup into a spoon.

Twoflower swallowed it obediently, pulling a tight grimace. “Bitter.”

“It is medicine, not candy.”

“I don’t see why it can’t be both.”

“You’re sounding better already.” Eaglecress tucked the glass bottle in a pocket of his voluminous black clothes. “I’ll be back to give you more in a couple hours.”

“I’ll be with him,” Lotus said. "I can give him the medicine."

The doctor stalled mid-motion, glanced to Sixwings and turned. “I would like to check on him myself, Princess. He is a very important man."

"Yes, of course." She gnawed her lip. "If there is anything else I can do to help..."

"All he really needs is rest.”

“What if it’s food poisoning?”

“Then he’ll need rest and bucket.”

“Excuse me,” Sixwings said. “She is the princess and the emperor is her father. I think a little respect is in order, don't you?”

The doctor flustered, pale and confused. “O-of course. I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“No, no, no." Lotus waved her hands wildly. "You’re the doctor, sir. I wasn’t trying to be a problem, I was only asking because I was concerned.” 

Eaglecress nodded. “I understand, Princess. If you are insistent, supportive care could never hurt. Whatever you can get him to drink or eat is good, being mindful of the nausea of course. Cool his head, warm his body. You’ll notice sweat when the fever breaks. Above all he needs sleep.”

Lotus nodded. “Yes, sir.’

“Sir?” Sixwings muttered to her.

The princess adjusted her posture. “I mean, that will be all, doctor.”

Eaglecress bowed dramatically. “I will return in three hours.” 

“Thank you.”

The physician took up the cabinet’s chain and tugged. The cabinet shivered to life and waddled out the door after him. Sixwings shut it behind him and snorted a laugh. “Still not used to being royalty, are you?”

“No,” she said. “I mean, we’ve lived in the palace for a while but Father’s only been Emperor a few months.”

“I’ve been in the palace much longer than you have,” Sixwings said. “Don’t let your guard down with anyone around here, even the physician. If they smell even a hint of weakness, they’ll walk all over you. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Hurt?” Lotus asked. “Why would I get hurt?”

“The noble families never were happy with Cohen’s changes and a lot of people are not excited about changing the government of the empire,” Sixwings said. “Not to mention this constant parade of foreigners...”

“I have never felt unsafe in the palace. At least not compared to how I felt _outside_ as part of a rebel army.” Lotus fit Sixwings with an expectant look and used her new, more commanding tone. “Now that we know Father’s on the mend, perhaps the one who needs the most protecting is my sister?”

“Oh. Yes. Probably” Sixwings smiled and bowed again. “With your permission, I’ll go to her.”

Lotus nodded. “Dismissed.”

Sixwings left with head held high. Lotus dropped her shoulders and sank back to the side of Twoflower’s bed. He raised his eyes again. The look on his face told her he had been listening. “I hope he didn’t scare you.”

"Eaglecress?"

"Sixwings," Twoflower said. “The noble families were a danger, but Cohen ejected or executed pretty much anyone who was a threat to his regime. Mostly executed. It was ghastly. I advised him against it. But taking his example I _have_ made steps to be sure those awful nobles aren’t in the palace anymore. People think me naive but I’m not an idiot.”

“Of course you’re not.”

“I just don’t want you to dwell on it.”

She said wasn't worried about politics, but she was very worried about him. Even with the doctor’s visit, the hurt of the previous years was still raw like a healing wound in her chest. Twoflower was probably right – a flu was nothing to fear in the modern age – but it didn’t erase the time she spent mourning him and her mother over the previous years. The pain of losing him was not something she could forget or repeat. Lotus tucked the blanket up to his chin and returned the damp rag to his brow. “I only worry when it’s important. I’ll feel better when you do, that’s all.”

Twoflower smiled. “You’ve got a big heart. Like your mother did.”

She squeezed his hand. “Like you do.”

“Then you’ve got a double portion.”

“And I double love you.” Lotus kissed his cheek and dimmed the lights back to peaceful darkness. She took a seat on the floor so she could nuzzle her father’s shoulder. He was warm, but comforting also. She wanted him to be okay more than anything in the world.

****

Sixwings heard Al Halal shouting long before he reached the throne room. He slipped into the throne room as quietly as he could. The emissary stood facing the dais surrounded by a wall of riches and a ring of kowtowing belly dancers. It wasn’t that long ago kowtowing was standard procedure in the Agatean Empire. Emperor Cohen put an end to that. Not everyone was happy about it.

Fiveorchids was off to the side of the raised platform, his calligraphy brush poised over a half-open length of scroll. Butterfly stood in front of her father’s throne, her jaw clenched and her face red with the effort of battling the Klatchian emissary for command of the room. “Please, if you would just calm down.”

“I did not travel thousands of miles over land, air, and sea to conduct business with a woman!” Al Halal roared. “Where is your emperor?”

“I am acting in the emperor’s stead,” Butterfly boomed in defiant rage. “He’s given me authority. To speak to me is to speak to him.”

“I refuse!” 

“We are showing you every courtesy.”

“This is an outrage. And I thought the Agatean Empire civilized. To be disappointed after such a hopeful reception by who I have come to assume was a respectable leader is catastrophically disappointing.”

“Don’t judge my father. He’s shown every kindness to you.”

“Yet he sends a mere girl to audience with me like a peer.”

“I am chief adviser to the crown!” Butterfly shouted. 

“You are weak and emotional,” Al Halal said. “I will not suffer this outrage further.”

“Excuse me,” Fiveorchids interrupted. “I think perhaps this meeting has gone a bit off track...”

“No. It is over!” Al Halal flapped one arm like a lame bird and the dancers hurried out, bent double. The jangle of their chains and bells echoed in the tension. The door slammed. Al Halal whirled back on the princess, gesturing to the wealth displayed behind him. “These were gifts from the Sariph. If I tell him they were refused, it will prevent peace if not lead to eventual war. If the emperor wishes to recover this relationship he will apologize to me personally.”

Butterfly’s fingers whitened in fists. “You saw this morning he was sick. You were generous with your time, then.”

“I was speaking to the monarch then. Now I’m speaking to you.” Al Halal said. “I will not blame a man for the failure of his body. My entourage will remain three days. When his constitution permits I will allow him time.”

“Allow him,” Butterfly’s tone dripped acid. “He is the emperor.”

“He has insulted us – ”

“I am not an insult!” Butterfly shouted. “I am first advisor to the crown and you are member of a ruling council that is little more than a mask to hide totalitarian regime. The Seriph is the only one who can make war, he is also the only one who can threaten me.”

Al Halal’s face twisted oddly. “You think you know all about our ways, but I know about yours as well… and that you may be a princess and you may be an adviser, but your culture puts just as much faith in your as mine would. This posture of superiority is hollow and formless.”

“As is yours,” she said.

Al Halal folded his hands in his sleeves and executed a stiff bow. “Send my regards to your father. He was kind, but must be an idiot to let it come to this.”

He stormed out, leaving a pallor of cold like the passing of a corpse.

Fiveorchids sucked his teeth and flourished a line on his scroll. “That could have gone better.”

Butterfly fell back into the throne, her face buried in her hands. 

Sixwings dodged the piles of riches and approached her on the dais. “You okay?”

“No.” Butterfly said with a sob. 

Sixwings gestured to Fiveorchids. He nodded and tucked his calligraphy brush in the bush of white hair behind one ear. “I’ll draw up an official transcript.”

“Thank you,” Sixwings said. “Make sure a copy goes to records.”

“As you wish.”

Butterfly listened to Firveorchids leave and muttered under her breath. “This is my fault. I lost my composure” She rubbed her face and pressed her eyes into her hands. “I couldn’t believe what was being said to me.”

“Much worse has been said before,” Sixwings said. “Not all that long ago, in fact.”

“Yes, but not to me.” Butterfly cleared her throat and presented him a brave face. “In Bes Pelargic people are a little more imaginative.”

“They used swear words?”

“They talked to me like I had dignity.”

“Oh that’s right. I’ve heard everyone there was strange.” 

Butterfly’s shell broke. The faint hint smile beamed back. “I miss it.”

“You don’t have to.” Sixwings said. “You’re the princess.”

“Not for long,” Butterfly said. “When Father dismantles the empire we’re all moving back. Get a house on the shore. He won’t have to work anymore, the three of us can be happy… we were always meant to be happy before the old emperor destroyed it all.”

“Don’t focus on the past,” Sixwings said. “There’s a new emperor now, your family will shape all of our futures. You can bring Bes Pelargic to you and then we’ll all be just as strange as they are.”

She smiled. “That reminds me of something Father said. The day he took the throne he said ‘I get to live where I want to live’.”

“And so you will.”

She wiped a remaining tear and took a calming breath. “How is he?”

“The doctor says it’s just a bug. He’ll be fine before you know it, he just needs medicine and some sleep.”

“That’s a relief.” Butterfly exhaled into a slouch. “Perhaps he can still talk to Al Halal. Smooth this whole thing over.”

“Or you can tell that walking corpse to jump off the roof.” Sixwings smiled as broadly as he could. “I’ll push him if you want.”

“Stand down, soldier.” She smiled back. “Although the offer is appreciated.”

“We don’t need the approval of these outsiders. Let him tell his Seriph anything he wants, the empire will survive it. We’ve survived for thousands of years without hearing a word from anyone.” Sixwings drew her up from the throne. Butterfly obeyed and allowed herself to be pulled snugly into his arms. She was such a deceptive beauty. Like the braided handle of a sword. He guided her off the platform, keeping their bodies close until hers settled back to the height his arms and chest knew. He peered down into her eyes; beautiful and vulnerable as he bent her backward with a kiss.

****

Rincewind had a weird flash of precognition – something vague and upsetting on the edge of his consciousness. His eyes shifted out of focus into the space between thaums, seeing echoes of himself present and past escaping death, turning history, risking himself for the sake of the ungrateful, and often spiteful divine forces. Among the chaos a glimmer of Rincewind of the Future peeked through, bringing with him the thrill of love and a twist of loss he didn’t yet understand.

"Wait! There it goes!" Adrian slammed Rincewind into a pole as he dashed after another rodent. 

In the hours they'd spent in the cellars, Ponder Stibbons and his assistant had managed to nab a fat sick one with one eye. The distressed creature clawed at the metal cage hanging from the researcher's belt as Ponder made notes in the light of a hanging lamp. Rincewind rubbed his shoulder and approached. "Did you feel something just now?"

"Hm?" 

"You know, like a tingle?" 

"I didn't feel anything." 

The chill raced up and down Rincewind's spine again. "Magic of some kind."

"You're probably not used to being so," Ponder used a finger to adjust his glasses an continued doodling on his notepad. "But you _are_ in the center of magical research and development complete with a library of spell books and old men in pointy hats. It's not unusual to find a bit of magic around here, although you could fool me sometimes."

"I'm not telling a joke." Rincewind snatched the pad out of his hand. "When you said you were going to ignore me I didn't think it would be to my face."

Ponder rolled his eyes. "Look, I've read your various reports for what sense could be made of them. You've been on many fantastic adventures and it makes sense you've got a pretty big idea of yourself, but while you've been galavanting in foreign lands we've been doing real magic around here. Magic and science. Progress is what it is. Done with records and experiments and proper deduction. If you had a method it'd be chaos." He snatched his notebook back. "And I'm not even prepared to give you that much credit."

Rincewind frowned. "I didn't make any reports."

"Well someone wrote your ramblings down."

"Ramblings?"

"Don't get offended." Ponder started writing again. "You're no less crazy than the rest of the Faculty."

"I'm not crazy." 

"If you're not you're very creative."

"I'm not a liar!" Rincewind grabbed Ponder by the collar of his robe, forcing the younger man to look up into his face. The hanging lamp overhead slanted off the wizard's glasses, giving Rincewind a reflected view of his own face. Sunken eyes. Dilated pupils. He refocused on the man behind the lenses and met a mask of pure incredulous pity. Rincewind dropped his fistfuls of cloth and backed away. "Is that why everyone's shoveling me around? Because you think I'm mad? Because you feel sorry for me?"

Ponder straightened his folds and tucked the folded notepad into the band of his hat. "It's because they don't know what to do about you."

"Why must something be done at all?"

"Because it's as I said," Ponder shrugged. "You're chaos incarnate. Every time you find your way back here you start some kind of disturbance. Unseen University is the most high-potential location on the whole of the disk -- maybe in the entire universe. If your stories are false, you are a jinx. If they're true, you're a plaything of the gods. Either way the Archancellor can't let someone naturally as violently opposed to order as you get bored in a place like this, you could end the world."

"I saved the world."

"Against your will," Ponder said. "That's how it apparently always has been. And next time perhaps the cards fall in your favor and your cowardice gets you out as the worst of it sets in. You've already survived a full wipe of the upper eschalons, do you think the heads of the orders want you to survive another? At least those are the excuses Ridcully gave at the meeting about you."

Rincewind felt like an idiot. They'd had a meeting. About what to do with him. 

The thought must have reached his face because Ponder backpedaled immediately. "Look, I'm not superstitious. I don't think you're a bad-luck magnet ready to restart the apocalypse no matter what the Archancellor says, I just didn't need a random untrained assistant knocking about my lab. The others can keep you busy, but my work can be extremely _extremely_ delicate. It's nothing personal. If I'd known the mice were due to escape then maybe -- " 

"No." The word fell from Rincewind's lips like an anvil into sand.

"Again, it's nothing personal." Ponder sucked his teeth. "Maybe if there was a title you actually liked... A place in the system you belonged."

"No," he said again. "There's no place I belong. I was an idiot to think so."

"That's not what I meant."

"Stuff it." Rincewind turned his back and stomped away. He wasn’t a good wizard. He ran from responsibility, got expelled from the University, was rubbish at magic, but he also elapsed timed. And escaped Hell. And saw the stars. And touched ground no one else had. He didn’t pretend to be anything he wasn’t, but he was good at surviving. He’d done it countless times and nobody ever noticed. No one cared if he made it out of misfortune alive. To them, he was a burden. A problem, it turned out, no one really wanted to solve.

"Rincewind!" Ponder called, but he was not going back. He wasn't even turning around. Rincewind knew a lot of stuff, and he knew when he was not wanted.

He shoved Adrian in the back on the way to the stairs. The squeaking mouse he'd trapped leaped skyward and vanished through a crack in the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, Rincewind noticed It was wearing a little hat.


	8. Chapter 8

Rincewind stormed up the stairs from the cellars, a red-clad ball of affronted fury. He was a wizard for gods' sake, an octarine-seeing thaum-sensing hat-wearing wizard with all the right and dignity as the rest of the bastards in the university. Ridcully couldn't do this to him -- sweep him around the tower like empty takeaway wrappers. Rincewind would show him. Give him a piece of his mind. He'd stomp up the stairs, barge right into the Archancellor's office and tell that smiling asshole just what he thought of him.

Two minutes later Rincewind was in his bedroom tossing folded clothing at the Luggage. “Wake up, you loaf!”

The trunk snapped its lid in irritation and rose on many legs. 

He grabbed another stack of socks from his beareau “Catch!” 

It swallowed the socks, a flying book, a lamp, the half-fifth of brandy Rincewind kept by his bed, and the dozen other things lobbed its direction. The Luggage had no voice with which to ask, but Rincewind could feel the question boring into him from it’s nonexistent eyes. 

“We’re going.”

The lid snapped.

“I don’t know! Anywhere that’s not here!”

He removed the bottom drawer of the bureau and stuffed it whole into the Luggage’s open maw. Content he had everything he owned and discontent about everything else, Rincewind fit his Wizzard hat on his head and stormed back down the stairs.

The Librarian was on his way from the canteen, a whole bunch of bananas slung over his shoulder. The ape paused as Rincewind swept through the main hall with the tap-dancing trunk a few paces behind. “Ook!”

Rincewind didn’t look back.

“Ook! Ook!”

“Nope!” He barked over his shoulder. 

A firm, ripe banana bounced off the back of Rincewind's head. Rincewind whirled and found himself face to face with the Librarian’s tiny frown and many bared teeth.

Rincewind adjusted his hat. “Look. It’s nothing personal. I’ve not been insulted by you, but I’ve been insulted enough by the rest of them to know when I'm not welcome. Some home this is! You make it back and find out you were never really missed, like a broom or a mop they misplaced. Some friends. Some family.”

“Ook!”

“I know ‘not you’,” Rincewind groaned. “But you did turn me over to Ridcully. You’re not forgiven.”

The Librarian slapped a hand over his eyes and turned his excessive amount of mouth down in shame.

“Oh you’re sorry now,” Rincewind challenged. “Too little too late, my mind is made up. I’m running away -- its the only thing I’m good for. Far far away. As far as karma, fate, destiny and the lot will let me get.”

“Ook?”

“I don’t know! I’m not naive enough to think there’s a place I’m _wanted_. Maybe some place I’m not _not_ wanted. Or a place where there’s no one around to not want me.”

The Librarian’s eyes glistened with a pitying; “Oook.”

“And to think I was was pleased to be home.” Rincewind’s shoulders went slack. He took in the front hall with a wistful sigh. “For five whole minutes I was glad to be here. It was nice while it lasted.”

“Eek! Oook Oook!” The Librarian knuckled forward and took hold of Rincewind’s hand. 

Rincewind tried to pull free, but the ape refused to let go. “You’re not going to talk me out of this.”

“Eeek Eeek Oook!”

"Help me? I don't believe you."

The Luggage stopped beside the Librarian, siding with him as much as it was able to decide. Rincewind ceased protest. “Fine. Help me, but help find a place to go because you’re convincing me to stay.”

The Librarian nodded and led the fuming Rincewind through the labyrinthine halls to the library. The place was empty of students (or at least the ones not consumed by the endless stacks). The air creaked with the leather sounds of flapping of books and chink of restraining chains. The Librarian released Rincewind’s hand and climbed a nearby bookshelf to some concealed nest. The wizard crossed his arms. “So where’s this place you have in mind. It better not have boxing wildlife in it, I’ve done that and I’m done with that.”

“Ook.”

“And no heights!”

“Ook!”

“No water either. And no trees! I have history with trees.”

“Oooooooooooook.” The orangutan returned with a strip of fabric trailing in one hand. 

Rincewind eyed him suspiciously. “Do you really have a place in mind, or did you just say that to get me in here?”

“Ook.” The Librarian assured. He ambled up onto a table and knotted the strip over Rincewind’s eyes. 

The wizard scooted it up so he could peek beneath. “You know, you’re asking a lot of a person when you tell them to trust you and then blindfold them.”

“Ook!”

“Okay, okay.” He tugged the cloth back into place. “Against my better judgment.”

The soft simian hand pinched tight around Rincewind’s palm and tugged him forward into the depths of the library. The Luggage bounced off the back of Rincewind's leg, sticking far closer than he was used to sensing it. The dusty air took on an odd harmonic as he passed through an incredibly dense magical field. There were plenty of powerful magic books in the collection, but he couldn’t recall a section of the library so saturated with loose magic. The power sparked off his skin, especially at his fingertips. Octarine fireworks popped in the dark of his blindfold. Deep in his head, memory of the past and future flitted past his conscious mind. 

The odd precognizant feeling from the cellar came back – a mix of loss, love, and anger with no definite source. He tried to grab it with his mind, but just as it appeared, it vanished. It felt like the future, but he couldn't tease it clear of the scenes of his life to that point. He saw himself falling through space, friends he’d met and lost track of, lands he’d changed and abandoned. It was a past he both loved and feared reliving. His life had flashed before his eyes countless times... never had he seen the good times. It was always escaping or screaming or staring down death, but in the dense magic field he saw all the rest. Rincewind was at once and gradually fully aware that his existence was a habit of entering other peoples’ stories and leaving without even a pictograph to prove it.

Heartbroken, he was drawn to a stop in a warm place smelling of incense. The Librarian released his hand and pulled off the blindfold. He was in a library, but not the one he was in moments ago. There were only about a dozen shelves packed tight with loose scrolls and ornamental books. A cluttered desk waited along the wall, covered in documents in different languages. The books open on top were written in Klatchian. Rincewind turned to the Librarian. “Did we just walk to a different continent?”

“Ook.”

“Are you going to tell me how?”

“Eeek.”

Rincewind put his hands on his hips. “You do realize the last time I crossed the disc in a hurry, it took a dozen eighth-level wizards and nearly got me killed? Why didn’t you suggest _walking_ then? When it would have been useful?”

“Ook,” the Librarian shrugged. He didn’t because he didn’t. Walking through time and space was a trick he only saved for special occasions, like a time when his friend Rincewind needed a place to escape. A place where he was not _not_ wanted.

Rincewind dropped his arms to his sides. “You broke a rule or something to do this for me, didn’t you? Because you’re my friend.”

“Ook.” 

“Huh.” The wizard gnawed the idea in his head a moment, stroking fingers through his scraggly beard. “Uh, thanks. I appreciate it. Does this mean you’ll be going now?”

The organutan shook his head. 

“I’m not going to need a ride back if that’s why you’re staying,” Rincewind said. “I’m not going back to Ankh-Morpork for a long long time. I can smell salt in the air... if we're on the coast, I can get a ship that can take me anywhere I want, so you can go on back to the university and tell them I said ‘sod off’.”

“Ook,” The Librarian moaned.

Rincewind grimaced. “I- I’ll write to you or something. Let you know how I’m getting on. Thanks again for the… well for the trip.”

He headed for a the library door and slipped out into a sunlight hall. The Librarian ambled after, followed by the contented luggage moving leisurely on its hundreds of legs. The three weren’t ten paces into the hallway before shouting erupted...

***

Butterfly and Sixwings opened the emperor's door and scared Lotus out of a deep sleep.

“Ahh!”

“Sorry!”

“Shh!” Lotus rose to check on Twoflower. He was sleeping soundly with a tense look. Lotus removed the cloth on his forehead and folded it in her hands. “He still has a fever, but the doctor is more medicine. I’ll get some more cold water.”

"Okay," Butterfly said. She took Lotus's on the side of the bed and pressed her wrist to Twoflower’s burning forehead. She whispered hoarsely as Lotus returned with a basin of water. “I think it’s even higher than before. What medicine did the doctor give him?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“I did. He said it was his own concoction.”

Twoflower stirred at their rising voices and grit his teeth with a groan. Butterfly went rigid. She withdrew her hand from his face and gripped his arm instead. “Shh, Father. We're sorry. Go back to sleep.” 

Twoflower’s eyes were red with dark rings growing in the hollows. “How did the meeting go?”

Butterfly bit her lip and looked up at Sixwings, but he only shook his head. Duty battled guilt for control of Butterfly’s judgment. She squeezed her father’s hand. “It did not go well.”

“Oh?”

“He… was insulted to see me. He will only talk to you.”

"Oh," Twoflower’s face fell. Butterfly’s heart crumpled with shame. He closed the hand she was holding and rubbed a thumb across her wrist. “Too bad. He seemed so nice. I guess you were right about not learning much about progressive ideas from Klatch.”

She bowed her head with a tentative smile. “I guess so.”

“Politics is an awful career.” Twoflower hefted himself on his elbow with another grimace. “I suppose I’ll have to rouse the energy to bid him official farewell...”

“No, you stay," Butterfly said. "Just because he was rude doesn’t mean I’ve given up.”

“You have a plan?” 

“I'll think of something," Butterfly said. "I swear I won't let him disgrace you to his seriph.” 

A firm knock sounded at the door. Lotus checked the timepiece on the wall. “That is probably the physician. Please answer it, Sixwings.”

The soldier nodded a bow and opened the door. Eaglecress entered, trailing the cabinet on its chain. “Ah, you’re all here.”

“His fever is worse.” Butterfly said.

Lotus cleared her throat. “The princess would like to know what kind of medicine you’re using.”

Eaglecress flustered as he glanced between the princesses. His face turned beet read. “I, it's... uh..."

"And don't give me an excuse about secrets of the craft," said Butterfly. "I'm giving you an order. Tell me what's in it or I'll break your arm."

Eaglecress's redness drained like he'd popped a cork. He glanced to Sixwings as if the soldier would save him before hanging his head in shame. "It’s... ah... it's only willow root. For fever and pain. I actually know very little about alchemy. I mixed ginger in for stomach upset.”

“I want to see it.” Butterfly stated.

"I promise it's nothing. Basic alchemy at best." The doctor reached into his many dark layers and removed the dark glass bottle. 

Butterfly grabbed and uncorked it. It smelled awful, but even if she had an idea what willow root smelled, like she wouldn’t know if it did what Eaglecress said. Lotus and Sixwings waited for her appraisal. She cleared her throat. “So why hasn’t it helped his fever?”

“Medicine is not magic,” Eaglecress said. “It is here to assist the body in its own healing. We shouldn’t be surprised if it takes a couple treatments.” 

He held his hand out, expectantly. Butterfly pouted and returned the bottle. “Then I suppose you should go ahead.”

Eaglecress tugged the lapels of his robe and took his turn on the side of the bed. The mattress sagged deep enough for Twoflower to looks suspicious about it. 

"Pardon me, your honor..." The doctor frittered in his cabinet and retrieved the listening device and temprameter. “How are you feeling? Any improvement?”

Twoflower's unfocused eyes blinked slowly. “It's like I’ve been run down by an elephant.”

"I see." Eaglecress examined his patient’s affected bits and pressed the bell-shaped end of the listener to center of Twoflower's chest. Twoflower observed the examination as curiously as Lotus and Butterfly. The doctor removed the themprameter. “The fever has indeed increased, but fever is the warhammer of the immune system. How is your nausea, your honor?”

“The same? Better? Constant but different.”

“I see.” He moved the listening device to Twoflower’s stomach. “Let’s just have a looksee.”

“Eeeeah!” Twoflower balled up as Eaglecress pressed the bell into his middle. Lotus sprang to intervene, but Butterfly caught her. 

The doctor withdrew the pressure. “Pain?”

Twoflower uncoiled, his voice an octave too high. “A bit.”

“Hmm,” the doctor said. “Let’s investigate this further.”

Lotus gulped. “Do we have to?”

“He has to find out what’s wrong,” Sixwings said. 

Eaglecress pressed a hand on the emperor's gut. “Let me know where it hurts with a yes or no. Stomach?”

Twoflower replied with a predictable. “Yes.”

“Liver?”

“Yes.”

“Kidney?”

“Yes.”

"Bowel?”

“Ah! Gods! Yes.” Twoflower smacked the doctor’s hand away. “It all hurts. Everything hurts. The whole general _thing_.”

“What does it mean?” Lotus asked.

“Sensitivity is not unexpected. There’s quite a bit of swelling.” The doctor opened and closed the lowest drawer of the cabinet a couple times filtering the contents between levels of impossible storage until he pulled out a full, dripping water bottle. “We’ll put some heat on and that will help.”

“But he’s already running a fever,” Butterfly said. “We don’t want him to get warmer.”

“Then also use this.” He opened and closed the drawer again to produce a condensation-heavy ice pack.

Twoflower’s brow knit. “Neither of those options seem particularly comfortable to me.”

“Trust your doctor.” Eaglecress flopped the heavy water bottle over Twoflower’s middle. The emperor caught his breath short, eyes stuck wide and watering. Eaglecress moved to set the bottle’s freezing twin on Twoflower’s forehead but the emperor caught him by the wrist. 

Lotus took the ice from Eaglecress and set it in her basin of cool water. “You’ve done enough for now, doctor. Can we have the medicine please so my father can get back to sleep?”

“Oh, yes of course.” Eaglecress pinked and pulled the bottle back out of his pocket. He filled a large spoon with the syrup and gave it to Twoflower whose good humor was already beyond spent. The doctor rose, jostling the man on the bed and drawing another wince. “I’ll be back in three more hours," Eaglecress announced. "We need to keep an eye on that tenderness.”

Lotus was seething. "We will."

Both princesses shot him daggers as he and his cabinet exited. Sixwings shut the door and raised his eyebrows. “You two are the definition of shrewd.”

"Shrewd?" Butterfly rounded on him. “He's in pain!”

“It’s fine dear, calm down,” Twoflower strained. “He is the court physician after all.”

“That doesn't mean he gets to torture you.” Lotus kept a light hand as she felt the edge of the warm water bottle. “Are you too hot? Is it heavy? Does it hurt too much?”

“No, I’m just tired.” His eyes were shallow and unfocused, at least moreso than usual considering he was without his glasses. “Being ill is a ride I’m ready to get off of.” 

A second knock sounded at the door. Butterfly ‘hmph’ed, impatient. “Has he not poked around enough?”

Sixwings pressed his lips in concern. “Perhaps he forgot something.”

He opened the door, permitting not Eaglecress, but Fiveorchids. The assistant's broad grey eyebrows rose. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

Butterfly straightened her back and raised her chin. “What is it?”

“The transcript of your meeting, highness.” He passed a bundle of papers over. “And this...from the Emissary.” 

Butterfly tried to hide a cringe as she took the sealed letter. Al Halal was packing his things and headed for the docks. She handed the paper back. “They can’t leave.”

Fiveorchids paused as if he hadn’t heard clearly. “Ma’am?” 

“Klatch has a three-day hospitality rule," Butterfly said. "Leaving now is to be unwelcome and we cannot have that. Assign a full brigade of servants, lay out a feast, raid the treasury for some really impressive golden baubles, give him anything else he wants besides, of course, freedom.” She nodded, curtly. “Tell him it’s hospitality extended by the Emperor, not me. Tell him it's in deference to their culture.”

Fiveorchids sucked his teeth with a significantly long glance at bedbound Twoflower. The emperor nodded. Fiveorchids bowed. “As you wish, Princess.”

“Sixwings,” Butterfly said. “Go with Fiveorchids. Mobilize the palace guards at the gate." She leaned toward him in a whisper. "You know, just in case they try to run.”

“Gladly, Empress.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop it.”

The two men exited. Twoflower smiled. “You are handling this well.”

Butterfly ran hands down her face. “I don’t feel like I am.”

“You’re being clever. That’s something.” His words slurred a bit. “Better than I can manage right now.”

Lotus wet her cloth and dabbed his face and neck. “You need to go back to sleep.”

“Yes. I’m on my way.” His eyes drooped but sprang back open as a third knock battered the door. It was more urgent than the previous two. The knob rattled against the lock. Twoflower craned hsi neck. “Goodness. I become ill one day and I’m more popular than I've ever been.”

“Whoever it is, go away!” Butterfly shouted through the door “The emperor needs to sleep.”

“Emperor?”

She took a double take. “Wizard?”

The door burst open, throwing Butterfly to the floor in a rain of splintering wood. Lotus screamed and vaulted her father to escape onto the bed. The battering ram, a many-legged travel trunk, hit the opposite wall and flipped lid-over-foot. Twoflower sat a little higher. “Is that my Luggage?”

An orangutan entered next, 'ook'ing in simian panic, followed by a disheveled wizard in red robes and a hat. He and the emperor made eye contact for a fraction of a second before a squad of guards flattened the wizard in a dog-pile ten men deep.


	9. Chapter 9

Twoflower stared at the pile of bodies in the center of his bedroom floor. “Rincewind?”

“Tweffeooleerr?”

“Unbelievable.” Butterfly groaned. “Everyone up! Get off, all of you! Leave the wizard alone.”

The guards moped a bit as they peeled away man by man, leaving the crushed and crumpled Rincewind bent into a pretzel on the floor.

Twoflower beamed down from the bed. “Rincewind! It _is_ you! What in the world are you doing here?” 

Rincwind staggered up with loud crack from his back. “It was more or less accidental, actually.”

“You accidentally embarked on a sea journey that took you several months?”

“Ah... you see, uh… I’m afraid it gets a little complicated.”

The emperor’s smile widened further, life and color returned to his face. “Well, whatever the circumstance I’m delighted to see you! So much has happened since you left – ” He rose on his elbows, but was stopped with a hard wince.

Lotus took his shoulders and lowered him back to his spot.

Rincewind spiked an eyebrow. “What’s the matter here?”

“Nothing,” Butterfly said, hotly. “Just odd, unannounced strangers barging into a sovereign leader’s private quarters unanounced. Who do you think you are showing up here? We could have you executed for this!”

“No! Don’t do that!” Twoflower said with sincere dismay.

Butterfly rolled her eyes. “I’m just making the point that you needed rest and now there’s two dozen people in here including a box and a monkey-- ”

“Ape.” Rincewind interrupted.

Butterfly glared at him. “And you interrupt me?”

“He’s an ape,” Rincewind insisted. “This day is going bad enough without another royal assault.”

The Librarian snorted approvingly, lifted a bottle of bourbon from the bar and nested himself down with by the window with Lotus’s discarded book.

She watched him curiously then raised her head. “Butterfly, Rincewind is not a stranger, he’s the Great Wizard. There’s no need to threaten people.”

“I’m doing what’s best for Father.”

“Father’s happy he’s here.”

“Look, stop talking over me like I’m not here,” Twoflower said with a tight, painful voice. “Rincewind is my friend, and from this moment I declare him officially Court Magician so tada – he’s allowed to be here and you guards can all just go. Find someone to fix my door.”

The guards bowed and obeyed.

Twoflower turned a sharp eye on his oldest daughter. “A grudge is never a good thing to hold on to.”

“I- I’m not! I just...” Butterfly coughed. “He’s not even a good magician.”

“Don’t call people names.” Twoflower’s steam was wearing down. He closed his eyes. “Rincewind doesn’t have to be good at magic to be a good wizard.”

Twoflower faded out like a spent candle. Lotus, beside him, resumed dabbing his head. She whispered to Rincewind. “I’m afraid you’ve come on a day when a lot has happened. Please forgive us if we’ve not shown you the proper welcome.”

“This is about the welcome I’m used to,” Rincewind said. “Is he ill?”

“Yes, but the physician says it’s nothing,” Butterfly said. “Perhaps it’s best you come back later. Another week perhaps. Or a month.”

“Hey, I didn’t _want_ to come here,” Rincewind replied.

Lotus’s brow knit. “You didn’t?”

Rincewind was struck dumb. Between Ridcully acting like his existence was trouble and Butterfly giving him the dismissal he deserved, here was Lotus Blossom (a woman who only knew him in times of war) actually sad to see him go.

“Don’t encourage him,” Butterfly told her sister. “This is not a good time for guests.”

“It’s the perfect time for guests!” she pressed. “Father’s ill, and he’s worried about the Klatchians, and suddenly his friend turns up out of nowhere and makes him smile like I haven’t seen him smile in such a long time. It’s medicine to have the Great Wizard arrive. Almost like a miracle.”

Rincewind raised his hands in defense. “Let’s not go that far.”

“You do want to stay, don’t you?” Lotus asked Rincewind. “Father could really use company. You don’t have to serve him or anything, you can just sit here with me and make sure he’s not alone.”

All eyes fixed on Rincewind, including the Librarian, who peered over the top of his book with great interest. Rincewind glared at him. “Did you know about this?”

“Ook.”

“So this is all a big cosmic coincidence?”

“Ooo Ook,” the Librarian said, gesturing out the window with one hairy arm. The pantomime was inexact, but Rincewind sussed out something about time not mattering, and having all of it in the world, and the choices being open. He didn’t really buy it.

“I guess I could stay,” the wizard said, hesitantly. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

Lotus smiled, bright as a ray of sunlight. “I’m so glad!”

Butterfly rolled her eyes again. “I did not need for today to get _more_ complicated than it already was.” She dropped her voice an octave to sound more commanding. “Wizard. Come with me.”

Rincewind watched, dumbfounded as she stomped across the bedroom and into an adjoining study. He surveyed the remaining characters, but got nothing but curious looks (Twoflower’s might have been fever-induced.) That niggling sense of premonition was back. Rincewind watched his friend’s brow knit and confirmed that yes, he was brought to Agatea for a reason and no, it wasn’t going to be fun.

There was little choice but follow Butterfly into the study. It was like walking into the little emperor’s mind. While the rest of the palace was 100% Ancient Agatean, the study was filled with foreign furniture, different styles of artwork, souvenirs – some of which Rincewind recognized from their journey together – and hundreds and hundreds of photographs. 

He was in a couple of them, and had taken a couple more. One of he and Twoflower surrounded by smiling barbarians in Ankh-Morpork was framed on the desk along with more traditionally painted portraits of Lotus and Butterfly. A small square canvas sat on a tiny gold easel. The craftsmanship was shoddy and the colors faded but it was obviously of a woman. Rincewind lifted it off its stand. 

The sliding door shicked closed behind him like a gillotine blade. “Ah!”

“Okay, Wizard,” Butterfly crossed her arms, speaking soft enough she obviously didn’t want her voice to ravel. “I know you’ve traveled the world. Answer me some questions.”

Rincewind showed her the square canvas. “Is this your mother?”

Butterfly’s face crinkled in dismay. She snatched the canvas out of his hand and set it back on it’s stand. “Yes it is.”

“I never caught her name.”

“Starlight Fountain.”

“Starlight Fountain,” Rincewind repeated, uncertainly. He’d picked up the native tongue a lot better over his adventures, but the names in the Agatean language still translated strangely. “I’m guessing this is the only picture of her you have. It’s obviously not by the iconograph. I’m guessing Twoflower didn’t take it, either. It’s old. If I were to guess, he had to track it down after… well after it was made.”

“Stop it.”

“Part of why he likes taking pictures so much, perhaps?”

“I said stop.” Butterfly resumed her impatient stance, but with a far wearier tone. “Tell me everything you can about Klatch.”

Rincewind sat heavily at the desk. “The country or the continent?”

“The country, specifically it’s management.” Butterfly seated herself on a nearby chaise. “I’ve done some research already. Their literature says that they have a ruling council, but my research says they’re controlled by an all-powerful Seriph. I suspect this duplicity is to keep the citizenry contented that their needs are being considered by the council while the Seriph pulls all the strings.”

“Oh, no they don’t care about what the people think.”

“What?”

“And you give the Seriph too much credit,” Rincewind said. “Aside from riches and infighting he has no power at all. The ruling council is not elected, they’re appointed by the Grand Vizier mostly for the purpose of agreeing with him. He’s the one with all the power.”

“He is?”

“Trust me, I’ve been there,” Rincewind said. “You assume it’s just like here, but it’s more like what this place could have been if Hong’s plans had gone through. Thankfully Cohen was smarter with his appointments. No way Twoflower was going to assassinate anyone.” A prickle stung the magic part of his genes. He glanced to the closed study door. “You all don’t have a Grand Vizier do you?”

“No, we do not.” Butterfly said. “Unless you count me.”

Rincewind’s eyebrows shot up like a pair of crimson flags.

Butterfly’s whole body recoiled in revulsion. “I would not assassinate my father!”

“I didn’t imply--”

“We are working together to end the line of succession and rebuild the Empire as a land that serves the people,” she said. “There IS no line of succession. Power is all going to the people.”

“Oh, you’re making a republic.”

“Republic?” 

“Representatives elected by the population to speak for them in a ruling council.”

“Does such a thing work?”

“Not usually,” Rincewind shrugged. “But the representatives don’t stay in power long. So if they aren’t working, every couple years you get a new one and try again.”

“Interesting.” She pulled a scroll and pencil from some invisible pocket in her silk dress. “A republic.”

“You’ve been working on this for a while,” Rincewind said. “Was that your library I saw up the hall two lefts, a right and two more lefts back?”

“Its my father’s library,” Butterfly said. “He’s been sending away for documents since before he took the throne. It used to be his vizier’s office, but there’s no vizier now so it’s become a library. But how do you know about it?”

Rincewind’s eyes slipped out of focus. “No idea.”

“Okay, next question,” Butterfly said. “I’ve been having difficulty with an emissary from Klatch. He has threatened the empire over Father’s sudden illness as if it was done specifically to spite him.” She got a sour look. “Okay he threatened the empire because I showed up for the audience, not because of the sickness.”

“Well, that makes sense.”

“Ugh, I feel so insufficient.” Butterfly sank into the slope of the couch in utter defeat. “I should have stood my ground.”

“No, don’t get _angry_ with the Klatchians. That would have made it worse.”

“I am more than a woman or a princess, I am a politican,” Butterfly said. “I had all the authority to conduct that meeting. It was Al Halal who was the problem.” 

“You’re probably right.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“The disc is always changing,” Rincewind said. “You’re on the driving edge. Not everyone else is that excited to cut, and cutting creates division, you can’t be surprised when old men from old regimes stick with their old ways.”

She raised her head. “I recall not long ago a moment where you told us all to give up ideals. To fall in line and be unassuming. Live to fight another day without the actual fight.”

“And you’ve never forgiven me.”

“Never.” 

“Then it’s good I’m not the one trying to change the world then isn’t it?” Rincewind said. “I’m always the one breaking his own neck to save it, in fact. Like your Father. All these pictures hanging up on these walls – almost all of these places I snatched him back from the jaws of death at one point or another. Even _after_ death, one time! For every person daring to push the boundaries there’s someone behind holding the leash keeping everything from falling apart.”

“You make yourself sound so noble,” Butterfly said. “I know you’re really a coward.”

“You can’t insult me with that.”

“And that’s why I can’t respect you.”

“Ouch,” Rincewind replied, flatly.

“But I may need an expert to stand beside me at a future audience. I will expect you to attend with me.”

“And why in hell would I do that?”

“Because you are now a member of Emperor Twoflower’s court,” Butterfly said. “And because all the moments you two spent together in these photos. You put on a flippant act but I can see the truth clear enough. You don’t care about truth or honor, but you love my father very much. You would not let him fall to shame.”

Rincewind’s throat tightened just a bit. He pivoted in his seat to face her. “I’ll add it to the long list of things I don’t want to do.”

“I’ll accept it,” she said. “Now, Court Magician, what else do you know about Klatch?”

They talked for what felt like hours. Rincewind relayed his experience with Klatchians in their own country, abroad, and in the many curry restaurants of Ankh-Morpork. Rincewind’s stomach growled loud enough for Butterfly to notice. 

She returned her scroll to wherever it came from and stood. “Thank you for your help. This will give me something to work with. I’ll arrange for a room for you and send up some food.”

Rincewind blinked at her. “Uh...Thanks. And you’re welcome.”

“Let’s hope it gives me some advantage.” She flexed her shoulders. “Put on a smile when we go out. Hopefully Father is feeling better.”

She opened to door to reveal a man standing in the quiet bedchamber. Twoflower was asleep with Lotus Blossom slumbering atop the covers beside him. Even the Librarian was asleep, limbs akimbo on his chair with the book he was reading draped open on his face. Rincewind’s head buzzed with the heavy atmosphere. The strange man in the middle of it all turned to the study, his sapient pearwood cabinet rattled its drawers. “Oh! Princess. I didn’t realize you were here.”

Butterfly frowned deeply. “What is wrong?”

“I promised to return in three hours...”

“Who is this?” Rincewind asked.

“Eaglecress.” she replied. “The court physician.”

Eaglecress gave Rincewind a severe, almost frightened expression. “Who is this?”

“Rincewind. Court _Magician_,” Rincewind answered with an air of authority. “Professional Great Wizard if you are so curious.”

Butterfly ignored him. “How is father?”

“I have given him more medicine as well as a sedative to help him rest.”

Rincewind pouted. “Did you sedate the whole room?”

Eaglecress’s fear turned to loathing. “I am looking after the Emperor.”

“And you haven’t answered my question.” Butterfly swept past him and sat on the side of the bed. “He’s still feverish.”

“The medicine will help.”

“What about the other symptoms? He’s been in a lot of pain.”

“The medicine would help with that, too.”

“Well it hasn’t so far,” she cut. “How much longer do we wait on your medicine before we try something else?”

“Give it until morning,” Eaglecress said. “He’s fighting very hard.”

She conceded. Rincewind could see how Twoflower’s illness zapped the power from Butterfly. She wilted against the bed with her head bowed low and his hand clasped in both of hers. “Fine, Eaglecress. You may go.”

“I will return in three hours.”

“Whatever is required.”

The court physician sniffed at Rincewind and escorted himself through the jagged edges of the obliterated bedroom door. Butterfly sighed, took a blanket from the foot of the bed and stretched it across her sleeping family. 

“This reminds me of when I was a child and we all lived together on the coast,” she said wistfully. “Back then, the most complicated thing we had to deal with was whatever new fascination Father thought about while at work. I’ve been longing for those days a lot recently, but the disc doesn’t turn backwards does it? If we even try to stop and savor a moment, it’ll keep spinning without us. Still…if I had any power at all, I’d stake the whole plate to A’tuin’s shell if it could keep everyone safe… and together.” She glanced back at Rincewind. “Do you have a family?”

“Not really,” he answered. “Not closely related, anyway.”

“Blood isn’t necessary. Just loyalty.”

Rincewind’s brow furrowed. He'd spent most his life running away from people and places. He knew he was a coward. He preferred living to not living, but what crime was that? Everywhere he went he met new people who seemed to accept him -- those in the room not excluded. And he knew where his home was. The Wizards came to mind. He was so upset when he realized they didn’t want him, but they did try to find a place for him in the University didn’t they? And it was Ankh-Morpork he longed for in his long days abroad... He tried not to let it show too often, but he couldn't help making attachments, and there was a string inside him that really cared on the rare occasion it was strummed. 

Butterfly gave up waiting for a response. “I’ll take you to your guest quarters if you want.”

“Uh,” Rincewind looked again on Lotus and the Librarian asleep. “Someone should probably stay with him, right?”

Her brow arched.

He gestured vaguely. “I mean the door’s gone, and he’s a head of state right? And he’s sick and all. People always sit up with people when they’re sick.”

Touched, Butterfly smiled more broadly. “Arlight, Wizard. I’ll have some food sent up for you, anyway.”

“Appreciated, thanks.”

She slipped out quietly, leaving Rincewind alone in the middle of the quiet bedroom. If he was going to run, now would be the time. Not even the Librarian was paying attention. He and the Luggage could even walk unhindered out of the palace, now that he was “court magician.” There wasn’t even a point to debate, except the idea of loyalty and his short list of friends giving him an opportunity to make the choice, and that the air was smelling of tin.

Rincewind pulled a chair over to Twoflower’s bed. The Emperor stirred. 

“Oh, you’re back.” He smiled and boosted himself on the pillows. “I still don’t quite believe you’re here. It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, it has.”

“I wish I could be more generous with my hospitality,” he winced.

Rincewind’s misgivings returned. “How long have you been sick?”

“Since this morning,” he said. “It feels longer. Hard to believe I was up and walking some hours ago. I don’t think I have the strength to sit up let alone stand.”

Rincewind glanced back to the open study door and the walls covered in photos, and the gold easel glinting on one corner of the desk. He leaned forward on his knees and studied the sick man’s face. “You eat or drink anything odd? Something the Klatchians brought, perhaps?”

“Oh we’ve gone over all that,” Twoflower said. “Eaglecress says it’s a flu and I’m sure that he’s right.”

“But did you, though?”

“Oh yes we had a whole feast of it,” he tugged a half smile. “It was a marvelous party. You would have liked it. They had this alcoholic coffee drink. Vile stuff, but very exotic. I’m trying not to remember the taste, honestly. The doctor just gave me another dose of that medicine he brought and it’s sitting very poorly.”

Rincewind’s throat tightened. “I really think you should consider investigating a little more than you are.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the emperor.”

“Bah,” Twoflower rolled his eyes. “People keep saying that. I am also human, you know. I am capable of becoming ill.”

“And being killed.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Twoflower’s strength was fading. His voice grew light. “Do you remember that holiday we went on together?”

“I try not to.”

“That was a good holiday,” he smiled a little. “I’d like to go again. Although I guess I can’t...” The following pause was long enough for Rincwind to fill in a couple reasons before Twoflower finally muttered. “Too many responsibilities.”

Rincewind had seen Twoflower dead before. Or soulless at least. The version of him in the bed was paler than that. As as sadness drew him down toward sleep his features seemed to age ten years as well. Worry lines and deep circles appeared almost by magic. His eyes shallowed and behind the puplies Rincewind caught a faint octarine tinge. He cleared his throat. “So, um… did you know I went to Hell?”

Twoflowers eyes snapped wide open. “You went to what?”

“I also went back in time for a while. And into the heart of magic. And to another world!”

“You did?”

Rincewind leaned a little closer. “Would you like me to tell you about it?”

Twoflower drew a long breath gradually raising in pitch. He gathered his blankets to his chin with both fists. “Oh! Yes, please!”


End file.
